Who Said Anything About Love?
by Expressionista
Summary: Some would think that surviving the attack was a God-given miracle. With Damon Salvatore showing up everywhere she goes, however, there soon proves to be a very thin line between it being a miracle and a sentence to hell on earth.
1. Prologue

Author's Note:

Based entirely on the TV series. Read the books, respect the books, but this story is gonna stick to the television story line. Anyways, reviews make the chapters come faster, so please tell me what you think. Title is subject to change.

Thanks!

* * *

**Prologue**

It's the little choices that ultimately screw people over.

Say, for example, deciding to make a stop on the way home. It was around one o'clock in the morning and, having been raised on irregular schedules, she knew exactly the place to stop at that time. A small 24-hour café nestled between a gas station and a forest shone its cozy warm lighting. It seemed to promise the energy she needed to get back home, so after only a moment's hesitation, she gave in and pulled into the almost-empty parking lot.

Other than the 90's white Land Rover she was driving, there was only a large cargo truck and a silver Volvo in the parking lot. With the aid of a street lamp, she could see the trucker asleep in the driver's seat of the cabin, head hanging down at an uncomfortable angle. She smiled knowingly and, throwing her phone, wallet and keys into a small knapsack, exited the car. Her long black hair seemed to blend into the night as she made her way across the parking lot, a small smile touching her lips. The owner of the Volvo was nowhere to be seen, but she let this detail slide and opened the door of the café.

The sweet aroma of coffee and doughnuts hit her with an almost physical force. She stopped in the entrance for a moment and closed her eyes to relish the wonderful smell, then completely entered. As expected, the café was empty all but for an employee texting on his cell phone behind the counter. The acne-cursed twenty-something-year-old put down the phone after a minute and pulled out a pad of paper to take her order.

"A large espresso," she whispered. She held a hand to her throat as she spoke; even if she'd long-since recovered from the cold she'd gotten two weeks before, for some reason or another, her voice was still giving her trouble. The employee, Jeff, nodded and, without saying a word, got to preparing the coffee.

"Somebody likes 'em strong."

She jumped at the sudden voice and whorled around. A man stood behind her, seemingly waiting for his turn in line, a curious expression on his face. He had the beautiful combination of straight black hair and pale blue eyes and wore a leather jacket, garment she had always longed for but never gotten. Judging by the way he immediately undressed her with his eyes, though, he was more than aware of how appealing he was to the female species. In any other situation, she may have admired him from afar, but she wasn't one to respond to one so forward. After giving him a quick once-over and a curt nod in acknowledgment, she turned back around.

She hadn't missed the double meaning to his words and responded in a loud, but slightly rough voice, "Yeah, coffee. Coffee's better strong, but everything else can be whatever the hell it wants to be."

He chuckled and held a hand to his chest as if she had struck him. "Ouch, got the hint," he conceded. She smiled despite herself and shook her head. At that point the espresso machine made a very loud, very threatening noise and began to spew out steam and water. The two stared as Jeff cursed and brandished a rag at it, trying to tame the beast.

"Need some help?" she called, wincing at the sharp pain it caused. Jeff waved off her offer and ran to the storage room for supplies.

"It'll just be a minute!" he called. "I've got the situation completely under control!"

She looked after him worriedly, but forced herself to move away from the counter and sit at a table next to the window. Without any invitation, the stranger sat across from her. "Oh, well. Looks like we're stuck together," he said with a sigh. Looking up from beneath his lashes, he added, "Not that I mind."

"I thought you'd gotten the hint," she said pointedly. He smiled and looked her full in the face, no longer in such a flirtatious manner.

"Fine, even I can tell when to back off," he agreed with resignation. He held out a hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet a woman such as yourself, miss…?"

She eyed his hand for a moment, but eventually gave in and placed her hand in his. "Caroline," she answered smoothly. Even if it was difficult to speak, this conversation was strangely easy to keep up with, and almost made her forget about how low her voice sounded.

"Bull shit," he said immediately, grinning at the shocked look that crossed her face. "Come on, I've met Caroline's, and you're not a Caroline."

"You say that as if it's impossible for me to be named Caroline," she argued, but didn't deny the lie. He didn't release her hand, so she pulled it back herself.

"A name says a lot about a person," he commented matter-of-factly.

"Then what does yours say about you?" she shot back. She regretted saying anything the moment his grin turned into a smirk.

"Want to know my name now?" he teased. "If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say you have a little crush on me." She rolled her eyes and looked over at the kitchen to see how Jeff was doing. The espresso machine was still steaming and he hadn't returned from the storage room.

"Listen, stranger," she began, "I'm not losing any sleep tonight not knowing your name."

"You know, I truly feel that we could get along if you'd only stop pushing me away."

"And I truly agree, but you need to stop hitting on me so much or you're gonna knock me out cold."

He didn't seem at all affected by her response and looked out the window. It should have been awkward, but for some reason or another, it wasn't. As forward as he was, the guy was entertaining to talk to.

"It's Damon, which means loyal and constant," he said after a short silence. "Caroline means a beautiful woman, and even if that's what you are, it's not your name." She tilted her head to the side and looked at him curiously.

"You study name meanings?"

"It's a hobby, along with lurking in alleys and volunteering at the local shelter."

"It's a good thing that you're self-encouraging," she mused, not taking a word he said seriously. "It'll really help you later on in life. Maybe not in the love department, but at least in everything else."

"Who said we were talking about love?" he asked suggestively. "I'm just a guy you met in a café with an open invitation." She laughed outright at that comment, and despite how much stranger it should have made the situation, it actually broke the tension. She shook her head and rested her arms on the table in front of her, getting more comfortable.

"And what kind of invitation are we talking about here?" she asked, still laughing softly.

"How about I invite you for a coffee if that guy ever manages to fix the machine?"

"Sounds good, but I've got someplace to be soon."

"Have someone waiting for you?" There was a hidden message beneath his words, and her smile dimmed slightly. He was right: she did have somebody waiting for her. Several somebodies, for that matter: Elena and everyone would be expecting her to check in once she got back from dropping her mother off at the airport. What was she doing, talking to some stranger in a café? He sighed in disappointment. "And here I was celebrating that I'd gotten a smile."

She got out of her seat and picked up her bag, averting her gaze. "I'm sorry, but it's late, and I really should get going." A quick glance at the kitchen let her know that a coffee was out of the question for at least thirty minutes, thirty minutes she didn't have. "It was nice meeting you, Damon, but I'm gonna have to owe you that coffee." He stood up as well, much too close for comfort. She got a strange scent off of him, a mix of pennies and musk, but didn't bother investigating further and turned to the door.

She placed her hand on the handle and looked up. In the reflection of the glass, she was completely alone. She looked over her shoulder, certain Damon had been standing only a couple of feet away a second ago, but he was, in fact, gone. A gasp came from the kitchen, and a breath later, there was the sickening thud of somebody falling to the ground. She knew the sound well because of her mother's fainting spells, but as familiar as the sound was to her, something told her this wasn't the same thing.

As if in a dream, she turned around, pushed open the door and ran for the car, her movements feeling sluggish as if she were moving through water.

Get to the car, drive away, call the police.

Get to the car, drive away, call the police.

Get to the car, drive away, call the police.

Why had she parked so damn far away? She felt like no matter how hard she ran, she couldn't get there fast enough. The moon was so beautiful, and even if it was half-full, it seemed to illuminate everything like some sort of moonlit fantasy. It would have been romantic at any other moment, in any other place, but at that moment and in that place, it was anything but. The sound of her boots crunching against the gravel reminded her of bones crunching, and the very thought fueled her legs to run even faster to their objective. Her breath came in visible pants, small clouds that disappeared as she moved through them, removing them from existence.

She finally reached the car and pulled on the handle: locked. Cursing and trying not to panic, she felt in her pockets for the keys. When she didn't find them, she opened her bag and desperately searched for the tiny strip of metal that was keeping her away from freedom. Her fingers never touched anything like a key, so with a final curse under her breath, she emptied the contents onto the ground, wrapped the fabric bag around her fist, and pulled back her arm.

He got to her before she could even touch the glass.

His hand effortlessly closed around her wrist. As if she were a rag doll he spun her around and shoved her against the car. A smirk was still in place on his lips, but behind those lips, she saw a set of elongated, inhumanly sharp teeth, and the flirtatious smirk took on a whole new nature. His eyes were black and the veins surrounding them protruded unnaturally, meant to intimidate. _Damon? No, demon… Holy shit._ Her heart pounded against her chest as if begging to be released, and the worst part was that she suddenly knew he could hear it. In one last effort to save her own life, she sucked in a breath and opened her mouth to scream. He covered it with his other hand, smiled, and snapped her head back against the metal surface of the car. She couldn't even cry out before everything went black, but as unconsciousness consumed her, she had only one last thought.

_He's going to kill me and not even know what my name is. How sad, Mikaela, how truly sad…_

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_Review!_


	2. Miss Me?

Author's Note:

Okay, even if it's the second entry, this is kinda the first chapter because it introduces the other characters from the show. The details from the attack and how Mikaela survived are intentionally held back, but they'll be cleared up quickly. As for Damon, there will be a lot of him next chapter, but I won't even begin to write it until I get a review, okay? Okay.

Special thanks to RachelRox08 for being the first to review the story!

On with it!

* * *

_From several feet above, she saw the body being pulled out of the open car and onto a mat. An EMT pressed two fingers against the left side of the young woman's neck, carefully avoiding the mess of blood and matted hair that covered the right side. Her empty black eyes stared into space and her mouth hung open as if mildly surprised. The EMT withdrew his hand after several seconds and shook his head, a silent signal to his coworkers. He pulled back the sleeve of his uniform and pressed a button to light up his digital watch._

"_Time of death, 3:24 AM," he stated for the record. "Jane Doe's body will be transferred to…" _

They can't even figure out my name, can they?_ she thought with disappointment, and turned around. _It's not like my driver's license isn't somewhere in the car.

_Even if she was disappointed, she didn't care for what happened to her body anymore: she was dead, and such things hardly seemed to matter. Everything she had ever wondered about before, everything that had burdened her while she was alive, seemed so clear, and at the same time, so meaningless. Life had been taken away, but then again, she had been longing for a rest, and she would live on elsewhere. _

_Maybe it was just her time? _

_She smiled contentedly and started to drift away, but a pair of hands gripped her from behind, stopping her from moving any further. Confused, she tried to jerk out of the person's grasp, but there was no comparison in strength: if the person wanted to pull her down, she was going to go down. A glance back as she fell confirmed where she was going, and she desperately reached up, hoping something, _anything_ would save her from the pain her body would give her. Instead, it felt as if she were being pushed down as well, down into the restricting cadaver, and with a final yell of frustration, she gave up and settled into it._

* * *

**Two Weeks Later:**

"So, when am I going to meet her?"

Stefan and Elena sat side by side on a bench outside of school, watching students walk by as they waited for the bell to ring. For the past two weeks, Elena had been commuting between the hospital and school, spending the greater part of her free time visiting her neighbor in recovery. She had explained everything to Stefan and he (being the considerate boyfriend he was) had understood her need to watch over her childhood friend. It meant them spending time apart so early in their relationship, but how could he even think to complain when she already had so much to worry about?

"She said she might be coming back today," Elena answered, looping her arm with his. "She looked a lot better last night."

"But?" he pressed, sensing the worry in her voice. She shook her head lightly.

"It's probably nothing," she said dismissively, forcing a smile.

"It can't be nothing if you're worried," he reasoned, giving her an encouraging nudge. "You can tell me." She sighed and looked down at their intertwined hands.

"It's just… According to the doctors, she actually died," she said carefully. "They aren't sure for how long she was gone, but it's a miracle she's even alive, much less coming to school."

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?"

"It should be, but… there's something different about her." She looked up suddenly and got to her feet, a cautious smile lighting her face. "There she is. Act natural," she whispered out the side of her mouth. Stefan got to his feet and quickly spotted the girl in question.

With black hair that reached her lower back and an olive complexion comparable to Elena's, the girl was a person of contrasts. Despite being short in comparison to the other students at 5-feet 3-inches, she held herself with the air of one who was very self-assured. She wore dark gray jeans, black ankle boots and a solid gray long-sleeve, and around her neck she wore a silver cross and a long black scarf. She caught sight of Elena and made her way towards them, a soft smile on her face.

"'Morning," she greeted. Elena's fake smile melted into a sincere one and she pulled the girl into a hug. Mikaela laughed lightly and hugged her back. "Wow, I feel pretty special."

"It's good to see you out of bed," Elena said with feeling, holding both of the girl's hands. Barely suppressing her excitement, Elena turned to Stephan. "Mikaela, this is my boyfriend, Stefan. Stefan, this is Mikaela."

"Nice to meet you." Mikaela extended her hand and Stefan gripped it firmly, smiling politely.

"It's a pleasure. Elena's told me a lot about you," he said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. Mikaela chuckled in embarrassment and ran a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, my mom's in South America for a couple of months, so Elena's been babysitting me ever since the incident," she said apologetically. "I tried to get her to take a break, but she can be stubborn when she wants to be."

"South America?" he repeated. "Elena mentioned your mother's a doctor. Is she there on business?"

"Yeah, she specializes in internal medicine," she explained. Judging by the way she said it, she'd given the same explanation several times before. "She's down there with the American Red Cross. I was on my way back from the airport when the whole mess happened."

"They still haven't caught--?"

A light shadow crossed her face, but as quickly as he saw it, it disappeared. "No, they haven't. Chances are they won't."

Elena cleared her throat before the awkward silence could ensue: she knew better than to bring up the attacker, but had forgotten to mention it to Stefan. "Hey, Mikaela, you're still coming tonight, right?" Mikaela nodded, grateful for the distraction, and waved a hand as if it were obvious.

"Hell yeah, Operation Make the Best Friend Love the Boyfriend is on. I've got my spell book ready and everything," she answered. She grinned at Stefan's confused expression. "It's a joke: Bonnie and I both come from lines of witches, sister clans, apparent--" Her black eyes flashed to something behind Stefan and coming fast. She opened her mouth to warn him, but there was no need. Without even looking beforehand, he turned around and caught the football with unnatural ease.

"Wow, nice catch, Stefan!" Elena praised, an excited grin lighting her face. She turned to see Mikaela's reaction, but was surprised to see her scowling. With a growl, Mikaela took the football from Stefan and marched in the football player's direction. Elena and Stefan stared after her.

"Um, did I do something wrong?" Stefan asked. Elena sighed and shook her head.

"No, it's not you, it's Tyler Lockwood," she replied, nodding in the football player's direction. "They were a couple in freshman year. He was tolerable back then and she swears he's still the same person, so it bothers her when he acts like an asshole." He nodded in understanding.

"You know, I really like her," he mused, laughing as Elena raised her eyebrows. "She looks like someone who could knock my brother down a couple of notches. I mean, look: Tyler's terrified." She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning up for a quick peck on the lips.

"Well, I'm glad you like her," she murmured. "I'm sure she likes you, too. Now we just have to convince Bonnie…"

* * *

Third period, Draw III, she was able to stop pretending.

As she sat next to the window in the art classroom, she looked around at the other students. Most were drawing, some texted while they thought the teacher wasn't looking, and others talked amongst themselves. It was a specialty class, so they had all taken the previous courses together and knew each other well. As she observed them, however, Mikaela felt like a separate species entirely.

She was a species that knew more than was healthy for it.

Her official statement to the detective had been than she didn't remember much: she ran out of the café, he sneaked up on her, knocked her out, and she woke up just as she was being sealed into a body bag. She couldn't identify him because she'd been too tired to pay much attention when they'd been talking, and unfortunately, she couldn't remember anything after he'd knocked her out.

She looked down at the paper she'd been aimlessly doodling on. A crow stared up at her, its form somewhat lopsided and sloppy, but clearly distinguishable. She flipped the page and continued with the doodling, keeping her eyes focused on the trees outside and allowing her hand to draw whatever the hell it wanted.

Yes, she'd told the detective that she couldn't remember anything after being knocked out, but that was a lie: she had woken up only seconds after he'd rendered her unconscious.

No, the memories weren't clear, but they were there: the wild look he gave her right before he bit down on her wrist, the possessive way he'd gripped her waist before attacking her neck, the struggle to get away… Everything was hazy what with the blood loss, the pain and, yes, the dying, but she wasn't stupid enough to think she'd imagined everything.

No, she was just crazy enough to figure out the truth: Vampire.

There were plenty of sick fanatics who got their rocks off on drinking blood, but that couldn't explain the speed, the strength, or the horrible change on his face. It wasn't human nature to be so sadistic, but it made sense for him to be because he wasn't actually a human. She wasn't sure why he hadn't been able to enter the car, but a human wouldn't have had any trouble.

She tore her eyes away from the window and looked at the person sitting across from her. Tyler quickly looked back down at his drawing, not wanting her to know he'd been watching her. She smiled softly: his pride was one of his biggest weaknesses. She turned back to the glass.

The sick part about knowing the truth? It didn't make a difference. Life would go on, and even if she knew something that many people could only theorize about, things had to go back to normal, and nothing would change. She had been killed and survived by sheer luck, the police would never catch the killer and she'd never be able to tell anyone what really happened that night because chances were nobody would believe her anyways. To the world she'd just be the girl who'd been attacked and raped, and that was that. Never mind that the "rape" part wasn't true, she'd heard enough comments already to certify that it was a bona fide rumor.

Wasn't high school the greatest?

She pulled her hand away from the paper and froze when she saw what her hand had written. In bold, Gothic letters, was one word over a large circle with random scribbles inside. She slammed the book shut, catching the attention of those closest to her. Ignoring them, she gathered her things together and stuffed them into her backpack before excusing herself to the nurse's office.

She got an early dismissal slip and made her way through the parking lot to her car. After throwing her bag in the trunk, she jumped into the driver's seat. The new seat covers bunched uncomfortably, the price she had to pay to cover up the blood stains she hadn't been able to wash out.

Dismissing how unsafe it was for her to be driving in such a panic, Mikaela drove all the way to her house and didn't stop moving until she had locked all of the doors and stuck herself into a cold shower. Fully clothed and barefoot, Mikaela held her face directly against the water, bracing her hands against the cold tile walls and forcing herself to calm down. Her heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace and the panic washed away down the drain, leaving only thoughts behind.

Demon.

That had been the word she'd written. It wasn't even a sentence, but all it had taken was the word to let her know it couldn't mean anything good. Déjà vu was a regular occurrence for her, but even more familiar to her were predictions. Dreams, signs, gut feelings-- they always had their purposes, and she had learned from an early age that ignoring them wasn't a good idea. This sign, however insignificant it seemed, had an important message.

Demon: it could mean Damon, the one who had attacked her, or it could literally mean a demon. She'd assumed she'd never have to encounter him again, but if that were true, then she wouldn't have gotten this sign. What did the circle and the scribbles even mean? And if it were a demon, what was she supposed to do? She groaned and turned off the water. With a bit of difficulty she peeled off her wet clothing and left it hanging to dry. A towel was neatly folded next to the sink, so she took it and wrapped it around herself.

Yes, there was an important message. Did she understand it? No.

The ground seemed to rock underneath her as she stumbled to her bedroom. The doctor had warned that pushing herself could cause dizzy spells: going to school a week earlier than advised had been pushing herself. She saw her bed and collapsed face-first onto the purple comforter, allowing the dizziness to consume her.

There was a message she had to figure out, but at that moment, she needed to rest. Later on she'd help Elena with the dinner party she was having, and after all of that, once she could be alone with her thoughts without unwillingly falling asleep, she could figure out the message. It may have been important, but really, it couldn't have been that urgent, even if it _did_ have to do with demons (or Damon, same difference).

Actually, what the hell did it matter? If Damon decided to go back and finish the job, he'd have a surprise or two waiting for him, the first one being she wasn't as easy to kill as he thought.

* * *

"Thanks _so_ much for picking that stuff up," Elena said as she held open the front door. "Just put it in the kitchen. I'm setting up the dining room and will be there in a minute!" Mikaela stumbled inside with several large plastic bags and hurried to the kitchen before she could fall over. Everything along the way was spotless for the visitors, and Bonnie was already in the kitchen tossing a salad, an upset look on her face.

"What's up with the frown?" she asked, dumping the bags on the island. "Did somebody die? Besides me, of course."

Bonnie shrugged, but her displeasure was beyond obvious. After being stared at for several seconds, she gave in. "I just don't think this is a good idea," she admitted. "I have a bad feeling."

"About Stefan?" Mikaela pressed, trying to clarify. Bonnie nodded.

"I mean, I touched his hand and just got this horrible..." she trailed off, and shook her head. "It's probably nothing, but I still don't want to spend time with him."

"Have you talked to your Grams about it?" she asked. She began pulling the containers of take-out Italian food and placing them on the counter. "Get me the serving dishes, will you?"

"Yeah, but she keeps saying the same thing: 'You're a witch, Bonnie'." Without asking where they were, Bonnie walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled the stack of ceramic serving plates from the topmost shelf. She seemed surprised at first, but Mikaela didn't notice and started pouring the food into them.

"Hey, if I picked this stuff up, does that mean I can say that I made dinner?"

"... I've never seen those before."

"Just one of the many quirks that come with the package," Mikaela said with a shrug, smiling to herself. When Bonnie didn't say anything, she stopped what she was doing and silently cursed herself. Sometimes Mikaela forgot that the youngest Bennett still hadn't come to terms with her powers. She sighed and leaned against the counter, trying to figure out the best approach to what she had to say. "You know, Bonnie, not everything your Grams says isn't true," she said carefully. "She was right about my nightmares being predictions, and you remember how crazy that was for me. We _do_ both come from lines of witches as well, and it's supposed to hit our generation this time around."

"So what are you saying, that I'm a witch?" she asked, her disbelief only partially genuine. "You sound like Grams now."

Mikaela smiled softly. "Thanks," she said. Horror crossed Bonnie's face and she began to apologize, but Mikaela held up a hand. "I mean it, Bonnie. Don't worry: she's a very powerful witch, and it's a compliment."

"I didn't think you really believed in that stuff," she insisted apologetically. "If I had known--"

"Don't worry about it, Bonnie," Mikaela repeated, cutting her off. The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the boyfriend. "Ah, so it begins," she announced, grinning at the other girl. "You ready for this?"

Bonnie groaned and rolled her eyes, the argument pretty much forgotten. "I'd rather grow a third eye in the middle of my forehead than do this."

"You know, we actually _do_ have a third eye, the psychic eye in the middle of the forehead..."

* * *

If there was anything about Stefan that Mikaela learned over dinner, it was that he was actually much more likable than she had originally thought. She stayed quiet and observed for most of the awkward dinner, but surprisingly, Stefan found his way onto Bonnie's (and Mikaela's) good sides via the one thing they had in common: their ancestry. Just as she was going to contribute to the conversation, the doorbell rang.

Elena got to her feet to answer the door, and so did Stefan. When it was just the two girls left, Mikaela started to pick up the used dishes. "Did you invite anyone?" Bonnie asked. Mikaela shook her head.

"I got home and collapsed. You know I would've just _loved_ to invite Tyler, but..." she trailed off and winked at Bonnie, who suppressed a laugh as a pair of voices drift

* * *

ed from the foyer. Mikaela carried the pile of dishes to the kitchen, but realized she'd accidentally taken Stefan's plate when he hadn't even finished his food. Sure, all that was left were a few stray noodles, but it was still his food. Everybody was back in the dining room, so she went straight back with an apologetic look on her face.

"My bad Stefan, I swore this was one of the serving--!" Her foot caught on a rug. She stumbled to regain her footing, but she had been caught completely unawares and the ground was coming at her much too fast. A pair of arms wrapped around her chest, stopping her from falling and helping her up straight again: Stefan, most likely. He held an arm tightly around her shoulders (maybe a little bit _too_ tightly) and held her elbow in case she swayed anymore. She laughed nervously and made sure the plate was still in her hands, only to freeze.

"You okay there?"

A circle with random scribbles... The noodles in the plate looked exactly like the drawing from earlier. Her ears started to ring, but she only one word crossed her mind: demon. Even if the smell had already hit her and she knew, a part of her needed confirmation, so Mikaela slowly looked up.

Dark shirt, leather jacket, pronounced jawline, unforgettable smirk, and finally, pale blue eyes. His brows furrowed in confusion, quickly followed by suspicion. His hand on her arm tightened, but she didn't make a sound and held her stare. His eyes seemed to darken ever so slightly, and in response she stood up straighter and set her jaw.

"Damon," she greeted, her voice controlled and curt. He didn't say anything for a moment and she took the opportunity to pull away. Everyone in the room was staring at the two, Stefan with more suspicion than anybody else, so he pulled himself together and struck that flirtatious poker face that had literally led her to her death.

"_Caroline_. Did you miss me?"

* * *

Thanks for reading! Now make my week and review ^_^


	3. Nothing Casual About DyingKilling

Author's Note:

Okay, today was my last day of high school--yay! Gonna miss it big time, but it's time to go, y'know? Anyways, I've been caught up with college business, finals, etc. so I haven't had much time to write. With that in mind, please review and let me know if you read it =]! Thanks, and take care, lovely readers!

* * *

"What the hell?" Caroline exclaimed, looking between the two with disbelief. "You know each other?"

"We've met," Damon answered, never taking his eyes off of Mikaela's face. For a moment her expression was guarded, her stance confident, and within a second, the faux courage melted away. He was close, _much _too close… The weight of what was happening set in and it was like ice water being dumped down her back. Her heart began to race and sweat beaded on her forehead, an outward indication of the chaos going on inside. Her killer had his arm around her like they were old buddies, and nobody could think that something was wrong?

The only reason she had been able to operate like a normal person, the only thing that had been keeping her from burying herself in a hole to hide for the rest of her life, had been the idea that she would never have to see him again. He'd left her for dead in the driver's seat of her car, so it wasn't like he'd come back to look for her, right? The world wasn't a place where girls were constantly jumped in cafes: it was a localized incident, and there was no reason to think it would happen again, right? Sure, vampires existed, but it wasn't like the _same exact vampire_ would somehow decide to attack the _same exact_ girl twice, right?

Bull shit.

She scrambled away and made a break for the kitchen: forget trying to act casual, there was nothing casual about dying. She rummaged in the cabinets, looking for something, _anything_ that could serve as a weapon. Fork? No. Spoon? Definitely not. Spatula? Ridiculous! Where were sharp objects when they were useful? Her ears were ringing in panic, but she heard the brief exchange of words and the footsteps of everyone going to the living room. The silence was more of a give away than his smell, so she grabbed the first thing she could close her fingers around and braced herself.

He stood in the entrance to the kitchen, a serious expression on his face that contrasted with the flirt she'd encountered only two weeks ago. "Why are you alive?" he asked, the question a demand more than anything else. She gulped and took a couple of steps back; maybe if she ran, she'd make it to the back door before… Yeah, right. He was a vampire, he'd be there before she even took the first step. She gripped the steak knife tighter and didn't say anything. "Are you deaf?" he snapped. "It's a simple question."

"Why do you care?" She surprised herself by speaking, but the sudden boldness had to be a production of fear. Her mind was plagued with memories of his teeth piercing her skin and his hands holding her so tight she was left with bruises, thus making it hard to concentrate. She shook her head to try and clear away the thoughts. "You're just gonna kill me anyways."

He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Can you _please_ not change the subject? You're supposed to be dead, I'm the one asking the questions."

"Excuse me?" she exclaimed. "I should be the one asking questions, you killed me!"

"Really?" he exclaimed sarcastically. "No shit, Sherlock! Now--" Before she could even react, he'd run forward, snatched the knife from her hand and thrown it into the wall across the room like a dart. She gasped and tried to move away, but he grabbed her shoulders with painful force and held her in front of him. Almost involuntarily, she opened her mouth to scream.

"Shut it," he ordered. Her voice stopped working and she couldn't bring herself to make a sound. This wasn't like when she'd lost her voice before: this was supernatural. "Now, I'm not going to kill you, but I want to know how _exactly_ you're still alive." She set her jaw in defiance and glared: she wouldn't let some vampire take advantage of her, not again.

Ever since she'd come back to Mystic Falls, she'd been trying to pretend that she was still the same person she'd been two weeks ago, but she was different now. She wouldn't allow herself to back down.

He wanted to use magic?

Well, two could play that game.

There was a glass of water on the island behind him. She narrowed her eyes at it and controlled her breathing, focusing on the liquid and projecting what she wanted to be done with it. "Hello? Anyone in there? Don't make me compel the answer out of you." As an afterthought, she paused what she was doing with the water and felt in the air for his power. When she touched it, with a blink, it was blocked.

"Maybe I'd have answered if you hadn't compelled me to shut up," she whispered. His eyes widened as he realized she'd broken the compulsion, giving her the opening she needed. With a sudden burst of strength, she shoved him against the island. The glass of water spilled, and as she'd hoped, he was burned and cried out in pain.

She'd never boiled water with her mind before, but Bonnie's grandmother had insisted she could. She made a mental note to thank the old woman if she survived the night.

As she'd hoped wouldn't happen, unfortunately, he recovered like a champion. There was no warning except for his growl of anger before he grabbed her by the throat and held her against the wall, cutting off all oxygen. She clawed against his hand but he didn't loosen his grip. He leaned close enough for her to feel his breath on her face as the veins around his eyes protruded and his fangs started to extend, reminding her of who had the upper hand in the food chain.

She stopped fighting and stretched her neck up, trying to get an inch loose so she could breathe. After several seconds, he let her go and she collapsed to her knees on the linoleum floor. She coughed and gasped as her lungs filled with air again, fighting the pain in her throat caused by the choking.

He knelt down in front of her, his face normal and the smirk back in place. He reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, but she flinched back from his touch. Unperturbed, he reached forward again, and she slapped his hand away. Immediately he snapped his hand forward and grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck.

"Now, I'm going to ask you… one… last… time," he hissed, moving forward so that the words were whispered against her ear. He moved his face down to the hollow of her neck and sniffed, letting out a warm breath against her skin. "Why are you alive? I didn't turn you, and you smell exactly the same."

"I don't know," she whispered through gritted teeth. "It just happened!" He pulled back and narrowed his eyes at her, but she held his gaze and didn't waver. His pupils dilated and then expanded unnaturally, and for a moment, she could sense a prickling on the back of her neck where his hand was.

"Are you telling me the truth?" he asked, his voice taking on a different tone. Realizing what he was doing, she felt an immense sense of--strangely enough-- annoyance overcome her. Taking a breath, she straightened her back and looked him straight in the eyes: when it came to the supernatural, she caught on quickly.

"Can't use the same trick twice, vampire. It won't work on me," she said coldly, and jerked out of his grip.

"How about I try killing you twice?" he snapped, but she had seen the pause before his response: he was as freaked out by the situation as she was, and that could be used to her advantage.

"If you wanted me dead right now, I'd be dead. You've had plenty of chances."

She was taking a risk playing that card, but she had no other choice. He narrowed his eyes at her and in a flash got to his feet, pulling her up with him. She gasped and yanked her arm out of his hand, but he didn't even seem to notice.

"Look, let's just get through this dinner date, and I'll decide what to do with you later. So long as you don't do anything stupid, I won't kill you," he said warningly. "And by stupid, I mean like drawing attention to our little situation."

"You killing me does not qualify as a 'little situation'!"

"Don't make a big deal out of it, okay? I'm a vampire, it's what I do!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

Choosing that moment to get away from him, Mikaela shoved past him to the den. He let her go without another word, and for some reason, she felt she wouldn't hear much more from him for the rest of the night. At this point they were both at equal disadvantages, and it wouldn't benefit him to create a scene. It was a surprise that nobody had heard them, but when she entered the room, only the girls were there and they were listening to some report on the radio.

She'd attacked her killer, and hadn't been killed? She had to be dreaming, because there was something surreal about the whole situation. Why did she feel as if she could be on equal grounds with the vampire, or maybe even get an upper hand? It was one of those gut feelings she was famous for, but for the first time in years, she was starting to doubt how accurate her feelings could be. It was impossible, right?

She forced a smile and sat next to Elena.

"You okay?" Elena asked quietly, placing a hand reassuringly on her knee. Mikaela nodded, smiling to keep up the act even if all that she wanted was to run into her bed and hide.

"Yeah, sorry about how I was acting, I was just… surprised."

"Don't worry, it's understandable. Damon said that you two used to be, um, _involved_."

Mikaela almost choked on the air she was breathing. "He… he did, did he?" she stammered, laughing nervously. Not only was he a bipolar killer, he was a little liar who was out to kill her reputation, too? "Well, it's… complicated…"

* * *

He was following the girl into the living room when Stefan pulled him into the hallway. He wore that same furious look that he got whenever Damon killed somebody. "What's going on, Damon?" he demanded, keeping his voice low in case any of the girls heard.

"She knooows," Damon answered in a sing-song voice under his breath. "That means your little girlfriend's next."

"What does she know?" Stefan asked, brows knotted as he anticipated the worst. Damon sighed and looked around to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them.

"Nothing much, just our dirty little secret about being vampires..." he muttered.

"_How_ does she know, Damon?" Stefan pressed, his eyes widening. Damon averted his gaze and crossed his arms, reluctant to tell his brother the whole story.

"Well, let's just say I went to get a bite to eat two weeks ago, and…"

Stefan groaned and shook his head. "Please don't tell me you're the one who attacked her," he pleaded quietly, running a hand through his hair. Damon shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, don't blame me! She should be dead!" he exclaimed defensively. "It's her fault for not following the… circle of life, or whatever kids are calling it these days."

"She said she didn't remember anything, did you compel her?" Stefan asked, but already knew the answer.

"That girl was dead, I didn't think it was necessary to make a dead person forget how they died!" he snapped. "But trust me, she remembers. Ha!" he laughed suddenly, throwing his hands in the air. "And don't even get me started on compelling her now! Turns out it doesn't work on her!"

"Does she have vervain in her system?"

"I don't know, how about you go take a bite and find out for--?"

He stopped short as a piece of the conversation floated over to them from the den. Mikaela and Elena were having a hushed conversation, but what with their enhanced hearing, it wasn't a challenge at all to listen to what they were saying.

"Listen, I'm starting to get tired," Mikaela said apologetically, standing up from her seat on the couch. "I have to get started on this iron pill the doctor prescribed, and as much as I wish I could stay, I think it's time I got going."

Elena stood up as well and led her to the door after Mikaela said goodbye to the other two girls. "Do you want me to walk you home?" Elena offered. Stefan, anticipating what his brother would do, reached out to try and stop him, but he was already gone.

"I'll escort her home," Damon declared, smiling innocently. Stefan sighed and followed him to the foyer where the two girls were standing in the doorway. Mikaela looked as stiff as a board at the sight of Damon, but nodded curtly.

"I live close by, I'll be fine," she stated. He wouldn't have it, though, and plucked her coat off the rack for her.

"I insist. There are some things we need to talk about now that we're in the same zip code," he pressed, smirking confidently as he held open the door.

There was a moment of tense silence, but she seemed to understand the underlying peace treaty and turned to Elena. "I'll call you when I get home," she said jokingly, "just to let you know I got there safe."

Elena smiled and hugged her neighbor tightly, then turned to Damon with a stern look. "You get her home safe," she ordered, pointing a warning finger at him. "Mikaela's one of my best friends, you know."

Damon looked at Mikaela out of the corner of his eye and winked. "Don't worry, I know exactly how precious our little _Mikaela _can be. She'll get home safe and sound."

* * *

People say that the walk to a friend's house is never long.

Why couldn't the walk back next door be just as quick?

"Isn't that Elena something?" Damon commented, sighing. "My brother doesn't deserve her."

She didn't say anything. With arms crossed, she hurried her walk in an attempt to put some distance between herself and the vampire. He kept up easily, and continued to talk. "Although, if I do say so myself, Caroline definitely runs second to her in the looks department; I personally prefer brunettes such as Elena and yourself. You, however, take the prize out of the three for that killer body of yours, as well as for your acting skills."

"Don't bother," she muttered, unable to hold it back any longer. The small-talk was pointless, and it unnerved her to have him flirting with her as if nothing had happened, and even more so to know that he was openly examining her body. "This is already weird, so just say what you need to say or kill me if you're going to already."

"Well, now that we're on friendly terms, let's just cut to the chase," he finally said, gripping her arm to stop her from walking any further. "You know I'm a vampire."

"Yes," she agreed, her voice tense from the physical contact. "And Stefan is, too."

"Yes, and not to state the obvious, but we really don't want anybody knowing about our special diets," he continued. "So, I have a proposition for you. Don't tell anyone, and I don't kill you."

"Is Stefan going to hurt Elena?"

Damon rolled his eyes, almost as if he were disappointed. "He's whipped," he answered. "It's embarrassing to admit, but Stefan's a rare saint among vampires."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" she pressed.

"You don't, but it's better than me killing you right now," he reasoned casually. She glared, but after a moment of them giving each other dirty looks, she nodded.

"Alright, I won't tell," she stated reluctantly, "so long as you promise not to bite me, either."

"Not unless you beg me to."

She groaned and pulled away from him. He smiled to himself and followed a couple of feet behind, carefully watching the way she moved and handled herself. Even with a vampire walking so close by, she held her head high and kept her back straight in a very dignified, almost regal manner. Her hair reached the small of her back and curled softly just above where her hips swelled out. Her figure was that of a woman rather than of a teenager, as were her deep brown eyes that hinted there was more to her than met the eye. He felt the hunger rising as it had that night fourteen days ago, where by simply looking at her his fangs begged to be released and dug into her skin again and again and again…

He shook his head and moved next to her. "So since we're on the subject, since when have you been a witch?" he asked conversationally, knowing full well that she had no interest in answering him.

"Since when have you been a vampire?" she shot back. He rolled his eyes.

"145 years, now answer the question without ten minutes of foreplay," he said with a groan, obviously annoyed. She chewed her lip: they were almost on the driveway…!

"It's complicated," she replied grudgingly. "When people go through dramatic experiences, such as dying, sometimes their third eye opens a bit more. I've gone through several, so it was bound to happen."

"Geez, how many times have you died?" he exclaimed.

"Twice," she answered flatly. A shadow crossed her eyes, and even if he was certain that thinking of his attack on her would cause fear, this was a different kind of darkness: this was grief. Her heels clacked against the porch steps as she climbed up to the house right next door to Elena's. "Well, this is my stop."

He looked over his shoulder at Elena's house. "That was a long walk," he said sarcastically. "No wonder you needed a chaperone."

"Look, is this going to be a regular thing?"

Her snapped question seemed to still everything around them. He turned to her slowly, the calm smirk that seemed to be his default expression spreading across his face. "What is?"

"You showing up," she clarified, a sense of determination in the way that she said it. "You threatening to kill me, you pretending to be human, you playing with--"

"Listen, _Caroline,_" he interrupted, placing heavy emphasis on the fake name she'd given him, "I killed you because I was hungry, and although I have no interest in killing you right now, I won't hesitate the moment you start causing more trouble than you're worth."

She pursed her lips in frustration, but after sucking in a slow breath, she turned her back on him and busied herself with unlocking the door. He chuckled and leaned forward so that he could whisper into her ear. "You know, for a girl who's practically shaking in fear, you're pretty stupid to turn your back on a vampire."

"Just try and touch me," she hissed, and threw open the door. "Please, make my night: place one finger on me while we're still on this porch." For several seconds neither of them moved, but finally she walked forward, breaking the stillness that had ensued.

"I thought so."

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the doorframe and smiled provocatively. "Not gonna invite me in?" he mocked. "I thought we were close friends by now." With a growl of anger, she slammed the door in his face and stormed away. He barked a laugh, and his last words carried through the house. They followed her to her bedroom as she ripped off her clothes and collapsed on the bed, and as she closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep, they radiated through her mind like a never-ending echo.

"Sweet dreams, Caroline!"

That night was the first night she dreamt of the Salvatore brothers.

* * *

Review, and I'll get the next chapter out within 2 days =] Otherwise, this will be paused indefinitely. Okay? Thanks ^_^!


	4. Deal After Deal

Author's Note:

Wow, thank you guys SO much for all of the positive feedback! I've never felt more motivated to write, and even if I'm in finals week, don't worry, the next chapter is coming out soon! (I'm still on an inspiration high thanks to that season finale and all of the reviews y'all gave me!) There was an earthquake here on the island Saturday night/Sunday morning, and I was writing the chapter while it hit at 1:14 AM. I'm so grateful nothing grave happened and that I'm able to publish this chapter today!

Now, here are some answers to frequent questions: 1) No, Mikaela is not a vampire, just something of a psychic with a witchy heritage, 2) Damon calls her Caroline in reference to the fake name she used in the Prologue, and in a way, to mock her, 3) The silver Volvo in the first chapter_ is_ a parallel to Twilight, it belonged to the cafe employee, and is my way of saying Damon would kick Edward's butt any day, sorry! 4) I will be updating ASAP ^_^

_

* * *

__She watched from a nearby tree as three people walked across the field: a young man, an older gentleman, and a young woman. The time and place were not her own, but it all felt right somehow. Looking down at herself, she saw she was barefoot and wore a simple white dress that brushed her knees and swayed in the wind: neutral, timeless. The three strangers were dressed in elegant nineteenth century apparel, giving the impression that they were of high social status._

_As they came closer, Mikaela began to make out their faces, and even recognized one: Stefan was the young man, and judging by the resemblance between him and the older man, she assumed he was his father. The woman protected herself from the sun with a delicate lace parasol, but as she turned to face Stefan's father, Mikaela was able to catch a glimpse of the woman._

_Even if it was obviously a dream, her breath caught as she saw Elena comfortably speaking with the two men. It couldn't be possible, could it? Elena wasn't a vampire! Resisting the urge to run to the group and demand answers, she settled with directing the question to the person next to her._

_He was tall and well built, and when she gripped his arm to get his attention, the muscles were hard beneath her fingers. This man had appeared in her dreams for years, her constant companion. He didn't always look the same, but she always knew who he was, and he always loved her. Now was different, though: he wasn't looking at her, but rather at Elena. The pain that overcame her heart couldn't be described as he slowly turned to Mikaela, allowing her a clear view of how he felt. A tenderness that made her want to cry and a love that made it difficult to breathe were aimed at Elena in a way she'd only ever dreamed could be possible. Her throat clenched tight and her vision blurred as the tears began to fall against her will, dripping down her cheeks and neck._

_He'd always been hers…!_

_She dropped her hand and took a step back: she couldn't handle this. His blue eyes met hers questioningly as he offered his arm to her. "Shall I introduce you?" he asked. She shook her head, wiping away the tears that had spilled over. "She's waiting for us."_

"_You love Elena?" she asked through the tears, ignoring his last comment. "I thought you loved me?"_

_He cocked his head to the side. "No, I love Katherine," he corrected, "and she loves me. Shall we go meet her?"_

_She looked back at the group and met the woman's gaze. The so-named Katherine's cheerful expression melted away instantly, and she smiled a slow, mischievous smile. "Why, hello, Miss Knight," she greeted below her breath. The words somehow carried across the large distance they had yet to cross. "It would seem I've won over both brothers now."_

_The emotion that had overcome her seemed to evaporate, replaced by disgust. Before her very eyes, storm clouds that were a sick yellow swept in from the east. Gusts of wind whipped left and right as if trying to rip them apart, and in the blink of an eye, the only ones left were Katherine, Mikaela, and her companion. Mikaela latched onto his arm, but as was only possible in dreams, he was by Katherine's side in an instant, much too far away. _

"_Come back!" she exclaimed, reaching out to him. His face took on a coldness uncharacteristic to him as he looked her up and down, distaste written in his every feature. "Please, my love! Come back!"_

"_I don't want you anymore, Miss Knight," he stated flatly, and turned to Katherine. "I'm in love with Miss Katherine Pierce."_

"_She's a vampire!" Mikaela yelled, her words carried away by the wind. He waved off her comment and ran a hand over the woman's hair. "My love, she's a monster, and she's playing with you! Please, I'm begging you--!"_

"_Please escort yourself to the front door, Miss Knight," Katherine interrupted, her sickly sweet voice carrying over the chaotic noise caused by the wind. "Emily will make sure that the door is locked behind you."_

_Mikaela fell to her knees on hardwood floors rather than grass as the pair walked away, completely unaware of just how much damage they had caused. She closed her eyes, got to her feet, and sat on a cushioned chair in her father's library, a long dagger held in her hand over an aged witch's grimoire. The field had been replaced with heavy bookshelves, and beyond the window, there was no sun, only a half-moon hanging in a dark sky. Emily stood in front of the locked door, hands folded neatly in front of her as she watched. Once she'd finished reciting the spell, Mikaela stood up, pulled back her sleeve, and, taking a deep breath, lifted the dagger into the air and brought it plunging down onto her--_

She awoke with a start tangled in white bed sheets and in a cold sweat. She blinked once, twice, three times, and the tears fell, remnants of the tears she'd shed in the dream. Her heart raced and her hands shook softly as the nerves wore off, allowing her to come back to reality. Despite her greatest efforts, however, a sob or two escaped, and as she forced herself to get up and walk to the bathroom, the heartbreak took its sweet time fading away.

What the hell kind of dream had that been?

Peeling off the little clothing she'd worn to bed, Mikaela climbed into the shower and turned on the warm water, not even bothering to close the bathroom door behind her. The water helped her to calm down, at least enough to reflect on what the dream could have meant.

If she hadn't known better, she'd have said that the dream was a series of connected flashbacks. The setting had been sometime in the 19th century, but it had felt much too real to be imagined. She'd been referred to as "Miss Knight", her ancestor from the time of the Founding Families of Mystic Falls, and a witch. She'd set a curse on the town upon her death, but Mikaela didn't know too many details about the incident.

She exited the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. Nobody was home, but it would take more than an empty house to convince her to traipse around naked. Once in her room, she reached into the closet and started to pull out clothes. Her hand fell on a black T-shirt Caroline had given her over the summer; despite their differences, they'd worked together on several baking fundraisers and clothes drives, so they'd spent many hours talking about a certain book series they'd been obsessed with.

Without any hesitation she ripped the Twilight shirt off the hanger and threw it into the corner of her closet. The "dreamy" vampires portrayed on the pages of the romance novel were nothing compared to the harsh reality.

Damon. Damon Salvatore.

As she pulled on a navy long-sleeve and black jeans, she thought about how strange of a situation she was in. Could she really pretend nothing was wrong whenever the vampire came in her presence? He'd killed her! Yes, they'd made a deal, and according to that deal, he couldn't kill her, but there were no witnesses and he had little to no credibility. How did she know how much his word was worth? For all she knew, he lied about deals all the time.

Well, if anything, she was sure to find out soon.

* * *

Most people were boring to watch.

Damon couldn't be sure yet if Mikaela was one of the exceptions.

He hadn't even bothered sending her the nightmare that woke her up at promptly 6 AM; it seemed the girl was able to fabricate her own perfectly fine without outside assistance. After showering and closing her bedroom curtain to change, she'd made her way to the kitchen, grabbed a yogurt out of the refrigerator, and hurried out the front door to the Land Rover.

She arrived at Mystic Falls High School at an appropriate time and spent the couple of minutes before the first bell chatting with Bonnie and his blood puppet, Caroline. When the bell rang, she went straight to class like a diligent student, and he watched her from the trees outside the classroom windows.

She was definitely a strange one: as far as he'd seen, the stereotype was that a girl either had looks or brains, not both, and if she did somehow have both, she also had a boyfriend who was outwardly as "perfect", like Elena. Mikaela, on the other hand, was quite easy on the eyes (he couldn't deny it-- he didn't settle for less when it came to women to feed on), and paid close attention in her classes, especially the advanced ones, but as far as he could tell, there was no boyfriend in play.

For the better part of the morning, he was led to believe there was no male involved at all, and then, in her third class, he made his appearance: some football player, judging by the jacket he wore. He soon found out that the boy was in fact a Lockwood, and seeing as he couldn't keep his eyes off of Mikaela, he was very interested. On several instances their gazes met and she'd smile, but he'd play it off with a nod and return to whatever he was pretending to be doing. Damon couldn't figure out why the boy thought those kinds of tricks would work on the proud, independent young woman, but wrote it off to teenage hormones.

"So, you coming to the game tonight?"

Ah, some action.

Mikaela looked up from her sketching journal, a soft smile on her lips. "Of course," she said, shrugging as if it were obvious. "I always go to cheer you on." With that, she turned back to her drawing. The teenager tried to conceal his smile, but Damon caught it, and the twitch at the edge of her lips let him know that she'd caught it as well. "I'm betting on you guys, though, so if you all lose, I might have to kill you."

"Oh come on, cut us some slack…"

Several classes later, he could conclude that the girl loved her arts classes and got along with basically everybody. She seemed to be a bit of a health freak, and as he watched her cross the football field in her gym uniform, he noticed she was still wearing that silver cross around her neck. Could it hold personal significance? Or was she religious? Out of all the classes, the one she walked to the slowest was sixth period math class, so he assumed it wasn't one of her strong sides.

Nothing interesting happened, however, until the final bell rang. Mikaela took off from her math class at a run, and Damon almost lost her in the crowd of stampeding teenagers. She jumped into her car, set it into reverse, and drove top-speed out of the school parking lot. He kept up with ease, and after a couple of minutes, was surprised by where she'd gone. He watched from the surrounding forest as she got out of her car and walked across the visitor parking area into the local hospital.

He followed closely, staying alert to make sure she didn't see him. He wasn't following her to kill her, but he _was_ curious and wanted to make sure she wouldn't do something stupid (i.e., let the Founders Council know vampires were back in town). When he got bored with her he'd find an excuse to kill her, but just to put off Stefan's tantrum that would most surely follow, he might have to reconsider killing the girl-- again, he had to remind himself.

She nodded at the nurses in the waiting area and passed through the hallways with the confidence of one who spent much time there. Stopping at room 1246, she knocked lightly on the door. A doctor walked out. "Is he awake?" she asked quietly, peeking around the aged man and into the room. He shook his head.

"Not yet, Mikaela. Go on inside."

She let herself into the room and Damon leaned against the wall to listen. She dropped her backpack onto the floor and sat in a chair, softly dragging it a couple of inches across the floor. She reached into her bag and fumbled around for something, then settled down and went silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of two people breathing, two heartbeats and the whir of medical equipment , but after several minutes of silence, she shifted in her seat and spoke.

"So, just to keep you up to date, last night I met the guy who killed me at Elena's diner party," she whispered carefully. He inched closer to the door even if it didn't make a difference. "I was right, his name's Damon and he's a vampire. Turns out he's Elena's new boyfriend's brother-- not Matt, Stefan, remember? Anyways, it was weird and I had to pretend nothing was going on while anyone else was around. We made a deal that if I don't tell anyone, he won't kill me, but I figure you don't really count, and if you do, then I guess I'll finally be dying after all."

Triumphant that he'd found the excuse he needed, Damon smiled to himself and slipped into the room. He was about to lock the door behind him when he realized exactly what was going on.

Mikaela sat in a cushioned chair at the man's bedside, a small recorder and a book held in her hands. The man on the bed looked to be just hitting his forties with scattered gray hairs and a mature face with a considerable amount of scarring. He looked fit, no, more than fit: he was hitting bodybuilder status, and even Damon half-expected him to jump out of the bed and beat him to a pulp. In comparison to the man, she looked quite small and for a moment he couldn't tell what she was doing there, but it only took a second to catch the tell-tale clues: the slight wave of his hair and the deep, rich color that she'd inherited, the strong set of his jaw that Mikaela demonstrated almost constantly, the full lips she boasted and now wore in a frown as she looked at the man's face. He had to be family.

"I'm being careful, but really, there's only so much I can do," she admitted, shaking her head. "I'm sure you wish you could do something now, but don't worry about it, okay? If you were awake, I wouldn't tell you about it, and you know it. Right now, just rest, and worry about getting better, okay?"

Deciding the situation was couldn't possibly be more convenient, Damon quietly closed the door and locked it behind him. Holding down the urge to feed on her on the spot, he slowly walked up to her, hands held out to grab her by the neck. Maybe he could make it look like she'd hung herself? The grief of her relative being in a coma may have been enough to push her to suicide…

She paused, then pressed the record button on the small digital recorder. "Friday, day of the first football game of the season, 2009. It's around four o'clock in the evening, and I'm in hospital room number 1246 in Mystic Falls. I had another one of those dreams last night," she began, her voice taking on a somewhat deeper tone. "I investigated it in the computer lab, and it all pretty much adds up. I dreamt everything from Miss Elizabeth Knight's perspective-- mom's ancestor-- as she had the love of her life taken away from her. I couldn't really tell who the man was, but the woman who stole him looked just like Elena. Her name was Katherine, Katherine Pierce."

Damon froze, his hands mere inches away from snapping her neck. It couldn't be, could it?

"Narration in first person. She, Katherine, was walking with Stefan Salvatore and his father, Giuseppe Salvatore, through a field. I was standing underneath a tree with the man that I loved, and I realized he loved the other woman. I began crying, and he still walked away to join her. She was a vampire.

"Switch screen. I'm kneeling in a library instead of the field and there's a grimoire open on the desk. It's not Emily's, but mine. I recite a spell, lift the dagger up, and I'm guessing I slash my arm and bleed to death." She pressed stop on the recorder, leaned forward onto the bed, and closed her eyes. She looked tired, and after running a hand through her hair, she pressed the record button again.

"Comments. I need to know who he was." She looked out the window, still unaware of him standing so closely. "Katherine said something about winning over both brothers, and she was walking with Stefan Salvatore in the dream. He did look like Damon physically, but everything about him was different. It could have been him, but I doubt I'll ever know." She sighed and looked out the open window. "Whoever he was, he broke her when he left. I woke up crying, and that hasn't happened for a while. I felt empty and had to fight the urge to cry for about an hour, but now I'm thankful because it's just a memory. To be pushed to end your own life…" She trailed off, but didn't stop recording. "I wonder who's the real murderer here, Katherine or the girl's lover.

"Vampires don't value life as we do. We're toys or snacks, and sometimes both. I'm worried about falling into the 'both' category like Caroline. She said Damon can be sweet, but if that's true, I doubt he'd be sweet with her. Then again, what do I know? He just killed me, no big deal. It's what vampires do, right?" Rolling her eyes, she leaned back in the chair and propped her legs on the bed. "Tonight's the first game of the season. Is it cheating to have a vampire on the team? I'm gonna close today's entry on that note."

She made to turn off the recorder, but then hesitantly added, "Dad looks the same, and mom hasn't called since the night I was released from here. I wonder, if me dying wasn't enough to bring her home, do you think the situation now would be enough?… Probably not."

With that, she finally did turn off the recorder, and dropped it onto her stomach. Almost unconsciously, she leaned her head back with a thoughtful look on her face, and froze.

"Well, well, looky here, Miss _Caroline_ has a soft spot," Damon proclaimed, smirking as she scrambled to her feet. Almost falling over in the process, she moved protectively in front of the sleeping man. "Who is he? Grandfather, uncle?"

"Father," she hissed through gritted teeth. "What do you want?" He could hear her heartbeat racing, but judging by the way she bared her teeth and glared at him, she wasn't necessarily afraid: she was angry. Angry was good, but afraid was better. "It's enough that you were watching me at school, now you're following me?"

"I've been following you all day, witch," he informed her smugly. "The fact that it took you so long to notice shows just how new you are to this whole vampire/witch business." Heaving a sigh, he crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side to look at her. "So, I heard your little… dream diary."

"And?" she snapped.

"Do you have those dreams often?" he asked. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"Why the hell do you care?"

Without warning he moved from several feet away to only an inch in front of her, that same calm smirk on his face. "It's none of your business," he said quietly, and looked her up and down. "You not answering my questions is making you into a nuisance." He could tell she remembered the condition of their deal by the way she gulped audibly, but for some reason she didn't back away, instead setting her jaw and looking him straight in the face.

"I have these dreams every time I go to sleep," she answered, the words obviously like vinegar in her mouth. "Most of the time they're predictions, but this was a flashback."

"Predictions of what?"

"Anything from the color shirt Bonnie will be wearing to the answers to Mr. Tanner's pop quiz to the winner of American Idol. Now, will you please step away and give me some room to breathe?"

Waiting a couple of seconds in the hopes that she would show some nervousness, Damon gave in and sat himself in the chair she'd been occupying, propping his legs onto the bed as she had. She looked like she wanted to kill him, but didn't say anything and crossed her arms. Damon folded his arms behind his head and made himself comfortable.

"Do you know who Katherine is?" he asked with a content sigh. Mikaela shrugged. "Then why'd you have the dream?"

"I've never heard of the woman before," she stated firmly, "and I don't know why I had the dream. I figured she's a vampire, and not a good exception like you insist Stefan is. Why does this interest you? Did you know her?"

"You could say that."

Silence ensued, but Mikaela couldn't stand it for long. A vampire was inches away from her father, and she still had no idea what he wanted. Clearing her throat, she decided to speak out, for better or for worse. "What do you want, Damon? You couldn't have been looking for me for nothing."

He looked up at her, but didn't answer for a while. His gaze should have unnerved her, but she didn't feel very intimidated: he needed something, and that meant he couldn't kill her. "Your dreams could be useful, Caroline," he said, getting to his feet in a flash. "If you let me use them, I could give you something that you want."

"And what would that be?" she tested, not even flinching when he stepped closer.

"I could let you live," he said casually. This time, she did move away, circling around him to the other side of the bed. Her body was tense, and when she reached her father's other side, she braced her hands against the bedrails.

"I thought we already settled this," she said slowly, keeping her eyes focused on him. He sighed dramatically and imitated her movements, leaning over her father so that she could feel his breath and smell his distinct scent. "If I don't tell, you won't--"

"The deal was that I wouldn't kill or bite you," he agreed, nodding his head. "That's true, but I didn't say anything in regards to your father…" He watched as her grip on the bedrails tightened and her knuckles went white, and smiled to himself. "So, we've got a deal, Caroline?"

Her response was a hard slap to the face. The crack sounded loudly throughout the whole room, cancelling out the whirring of the machinery for a couple of instances. His head was turned barely an inch to the side despite the strength of the impact, but no amount of vampire reflexes had prepared him for the attack. He sucked in a breath through his nose and turned back to the feisty young woman in front of him. Her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes were practically flashing fury at him.

"Deal," she growled. "Now get out."

He couldn't move for a moment. The action felt familiar: yes, women slapped him occasionally for being too forward, but everything about the scene screamed déjà vu to him. Her expression as she tried to will him out of the room with her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell as she reined in her fury, the fact that even after slapping a vampire, she could manage to stand with confidence… He couldn't place where he knew her from, and wasn't given the opportunity to ponder it further.

An urgent knock came at the door, followed by a woman's voice. "Mikaela, open the door!" the woman exclaimed. "Is everything alright?" It was then that Damon noticed Mikaela's hand had been gripped around the emergency button built into the bed and that a small red light was flashing on the wall behind them. She didn't smile victoriously as he would have, and she didn't try to force him out, either. She simply narrowed her eyes and said one of the last things he would have expected her to.

"My name is Mikaela Greene," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Her body shook, with anger or with fear, he suddenly couldn't tell. "I am not a blood puppet like Caroline, and if you even think of breaking our deal, I'll make sure you and your brother never see the light of day again. Now get out."

* * *

Damon ran out the door at vampire speed, startling the nurse when the door flew open by no apparent force, but he didn't care: he needed to see something, _immediately_. He was at the house in less than a minute, and in the blink of an eye, he found the book in Stefan's private collection. It was a very large, thin album with several copies of original drawings and photographs preserved between its pages, and exactly in the middle of it, he found what he was looking for.

The last year that they'd been human, the photograph had just been patented. The Founding Families of Mystic Falls had all decided to take photographs the same week, and despite the poor quality of the Salvatore photograph, Stefan had stolen every book that contained the photograph when he'd returned, just to make sure there was no risk of anyone discovering what he was. Standing by the window, Damon leaned against the wall and held the book up to the light.

The picture was considerably washed out, but there was no mistake. Their father, Giuseppe, stood in the center with Stefan and Damon at his sides, Stefan in his Sunday best and Damon in military apparel. To the right, next to Stefan, stood Katherine, looking as identical to Elena as ever, only more beautiful and with an air of perfection and pride that was all her own. As much as he wanted to stay looking at her face, he needed to focus, and shifted his attention to the left of the picture. Standing next to Damon was a woman, her face and almost entire figure blotted out in a very intentional manner. Until that moment he'd never noticed the fifth person in the picture, or even cared to wonder about the blotching, but suddenly, he couldn't figure out why not.

There was a caption at the bottom of the page with all of their names in fine print. It read:

_From right to left: Katherine Pierce, Stefan Salvatore (son), Giuseppe Salvatore (father), Damon Salvatore (son)… Elizabeth Knight._

His eyes widened and he re-read the caption several times, but he knew there was no mistake. He remembered taking the photograph and he remembered that Katherine had only recently arrived to Mystic Falls when they'd taken it, but as far as he could remember, it had just been them four. Why did this book insist there was a fifth person, and why couldn't he remember a thing about her?

Who was Elizabeth Knight, anyway?

* * *

Please review! Special thanks to Bonnie4eva x, Ana, elizabethpendragon, Rayne91, Emily, MissCharstar, CalligraphersNib, and Random for reviewing the last chapters! I responded to everyone who signed, but again, thanks truly!


	5. Backfire

Author's Note:

Hey! Two chapters, two days! Now, I know I said the Founder's Ball would take place in this chapter, but y'all know how it is when inspiration hits, right? It's coming, though... Well, here's the next chapter. I truly appreciated all the reviews from the last chapter, seriously, it makes my day/week/whole writing experience SO much better!

Anyways, there's a link to a picture of Mikaela's car on my profile. If you guys have any pictures you'd like to give (suggestions for how Mikaela should look, nice pictures of Damon--we girls LOVE those-- etc.), please send them my way! Remember, if you review, I'll post up the chapter faster ^_^

This one was previously titled Benji (Behn`-jee), a name, but I changed it last minute. And if there are any guesses to who Elizabeth is, I would LOVE to know!

* * *

_**Backfire**_

In all of her years living at Mystic Falls, Mikaela had only seen this much excitement at a high school football game in her freshman year, when Tyler Lockwood had gotten onto the team.

This time was different, though. Last time, she had arrived early with Tyler and Matt and waited in the empty stadium for a whole hour until people finally started arriving; now she was late driving into the parking lot, and cursing when she realized how packed it was. She managed to find a parking space at the edge and had to walk for a couple of minutes, but that was perfect because she needed to think.

Her dreams weren't necessarily classified information, but they weren't public record, either: she shared them when she wanted to and with the people she wanted to, not on demand, especially not with killers. The prospect of having to share her visions and dreams with Damon made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Why would he want to know about them, anyway? Had he been especially attached to Katherine or Elizabeth? Did he hope to learn something by watching her?

Just how much would she have to pay for slapping him? She hadn't thought her action through much when she'd done it, settling for doing what her instincts told her to. After that incident, she'd decided her instincts were out to get her killed.

Spotting a large crowd of teenagers dressed in red and black, Mikaela adjusted the black scarf she'd wrapped around her neck and sprinted over. It took some strategic maneuvering and a couple of shoves, but eventually she found her way to the front, smiling when Tyler caught her eye. Something between a smirk and a genuine smile crossed his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he focused his attention again on the pre-game pep talk the coach was giving. At that moment, the newest addition to the team looked over, and they met eyes.

Stefan's eyes seemed to be anxiously measuring her expression, and for a moment, it seemed as if everything went silent. They hadn't spoken since the dinner party because, even if he had tried to pull her to the side on several occasions, she'd avoided him as best as she could. She didn't want to associate with another blood thirsty vampire and she didn't want another life threat or deal with the devil. She could see people pumping their fists and shouting all around them, but none of it seemed to matter: she was in shock, completely thrown by him.

Damon's eyes were cold, heartless.

Stefan, his brother, looked more human than anybody else present. Maybe he truly was a saint among vampires?

The crowd exploded with cheers and the coach held Stefan's arm in the air. "This is our secret weapon!" he proclaimed, his grin reaching both ears. Students screamed and the team started to jump and shout, huddling around the coach and Stefan. Mikaela chose that moment to detach herself from the group and make her way to the football field. As she walked, she pulled the lens cap off of her professional camera and started shooting pictures.

Besides Draw III, her other elective was a photography class she'd been fighting to get into since freshman year. The lighting of the area wasn't all that great, but she got some interesting shots and made her way onto the field. People pressed in from all sides, making her feel claustrophobic and desperate to get out of the crowd. She looked around for a familiar person to latch onto, but instead, someone latched onto her arm and jerked her back outside of the stadium.

Mikaela cried out in surprise, but when the smell hit her, she truly began to struggle. "Let go of me!" she exclaimed, but he'd already turned her around and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Damon, stop--!"

"If you don't stop talking, I'm going to--"

"What, threaten my brother-in-law? How about the dog?" she snapped, growling in frustration when he steered her toward a collection of cars. This was the pot head area where booze and drugs were distributed under the teachers' noses, and she had no interest in going over there. "Listen, just tell me what you--"

"Go," he ordered, and let her go. She turned around and took him in: he looked exactly as he had hours before, only maybe a little more confident than when he'd left the hospital room. Whatever effect her slapping him had had, it had definitely worn off already, and he was back to his normal self as far as she could tell. She eyed him warily, but he made no move to approach her anymore. "It looks like your boyfriend's getting himself into some trouble, and I don't want St. Stefan snacking on anyone because they scraped their knee."

She hadn't been expecting that. "My boyfriend?" she repeated. "I don't have a--"

"What? You want to settle this, Lockwood?"

Mikaela didn't even stop to groan in frustration before taking off in the direction Jeremy's voice was coming from. She left Damon behind without another word and he didn't follow. Surely enough, Tyler was walking towards a very drunk Jeremy, an annoyed look on his face. They met halfway and Tyler grabbed Jeremy by his shirtfront, shoving him to the ground.

"Piss off, Gilbert," he warned. A crowd was starting to form, but Mikaela pushed her way to the front with some difficulty.

"What's going on?" she demanded just as Stefan arrived. Jeremy jumped to his feet and knocked Tyler to the ground, but Tyler brought him down with him and pulled back his arm to punch. Mikaela rushed forward without thinking and grabbed his arm, but he swung it down anyway, knocking her over. She was only fazed for a second, and before he could try and land a punch on Jeremy again, she sprung at him with all of her strength, successfully getting him off of the younger teenager.

The two rolled over on the ground a couple of times, but finally Mikaela kicked out a leg and stopped their progress. She was straddled on his waist and his hands were wrapped tightly around her arms, each restricting movement of the other. Before she could even catch her breath, he rolled them over so that she was pinned to the ground beneath him instead. His chest heaved and sweat had formed on his face, and even if this was technically a violent situation, she couldn't help but notice how compromising of a position they were in. Camera's flashed, hinting that within an hour there would be some very interesting photographs on Facebook and MySpace.

He looked up suddenly and got to his feet just in time to block Jeremy's punch. From her perspective on the ground, she saw him shove Elena's brother against a car and start to land punches on the boy's face as if it were effortless. Between the blur that was Tyler's fist and the mess that was Jeremy's hair, she saw blood start to spray and felt an insetting fear.

Had this been why Damon pushed her to the fight? To stop bloodshed?

Matt, ever the heroic one, appeared out of nowhere and pulled Tyler off of Jeremy just as Stefan stepped between the two to make sure they didn't try to get at each other again. Mikaela sat up and was getting to her feet when a hand came in front of her. Looking up, she saw that the owner of the hand was Stefan.

"Are you alright, Mikaela?" he asked, genuine concern on his face. She nodded and accepted the help, trying not to think too much about why it was so easy for him to lift her up. "You could've been--"

"I've known him all my life," she interrupted, dusting off her jeans. "He couldn't hurt me if he…" She trailed off. Jeremy had been lying on the ground, but suddenly he was charging for Tyler, some sort of weapon in his hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elena come up next to Stefan, a horrified look on her face.

Sometimes, one doesn't think: one simply acts.

"Jeremy! Mikaela!" Elena cried out. "Stop--!"

She only realized what she'd done after she'd done it. It seemed she'd reached up to grab Jeremy's arm, but as pain shot up from the inside of her wrist, it became apparent that she'd missed. The scream escaped her before she could stop it, and Jeremy, as intoxicated as he was, stepped back, confusion written all over him. She gritted her teeth and held her arm close to her body, shaking as she fought the waves of pain. Several people swarmed around her and there was a series of screams, but two particular people forced her to sit on the ground.

She'd been beaten up before and had gotten glass stuck in her body, but this was completely different. Peeking between clenched eyes, the jagged bottle sticking out of her arm seemed almost fake, too crude to be real. Blood gushed out around the glass and onto the ground, even faster than when Damon had fed on her. Funny, he'd put her into the situation to stop anyone from bleeding, and look how the whole thing had backfired... She felt the ground beneath her rock, and only Matt's arms around her shoulders kept her from falling over.

"Salvatore, call an ambulance!" Matt yelled, holding her in place. "Mikaela, don't worry, you're gonna be fine!"

"Mikaela?" Elena exclaimed, bending down in front of her. "Mikaela, are you alright?"

"She has a bottle in her arm, how do you think she's doing?" Tyler snapped. She hadn't noticed Tyler was the other person next to her, but only two seconds later, he left and advanced on Jeremy. "Gilbert, you are so--!"

"Ty!" Mikaela yelled, wincing as her arm tensed up around the glass. "Ty, stop it!" For a moment it seemed like he was going to ignore her, but then he was at her side and lifting her into his arms. She cried out in surprise, then in pain when the bottle moved slightly.

"Screw this, I'll drive her there myself," he muttered, glaring at everyone around them. "Matt, you coming?" he called as he started walking around the stadium.

"I'm coming with you!" Elena said determinedly, but Mikaela shook her head.

"Stay with Stefan," she said between pants. "Make sure he stays away--!" She stopped as another wave of pain shot up her arm and gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.

"Don't worry about Stefan, you're the one that needs--"

"I mean it, Elena!" Mikaela gasped. Tyler stopped suddenly and growled.

"Can you get out of my way?" he said warningly. Thinking he was speaking to Elena, Mikaela waited for the pain to lessen up a second and pressed a reassuring hand onto his chest.

"It's fine, we don't all fit in the car, anyway," she murmured. "I can wait for the ambulance, Ty."

"Don't be stupid."

Mikaela gasped as her body suddenly jerked forward and a new, even stronger pair of arms held her instead. When the bottle swayed with the movement, she instinctively gripped onto his jacket until the pain passed, this time even shedding a tear or two. "I can get her there faster."

"Damon?" Mikaela and Elena exclaimed at the same time. Mikaela stared wide-eyed at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Damon, what are you--?"

"I can get her there fast enough," Tyler argued, obviously resisting the urge to take her back by force. Damon raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down.

"And you are?"

"None of your business, dick. Now give me back my--"

"Your what?" Damon interrupted, smirking. Tyler didn't respond. "That's what I thought." He turned to walk away, but Matt ran up next to him.

"I'll go with you, somebody needs to put pressure on the--"

"Damon, why the hell are you taking me?"

"Mikaela, you think you can put some pressure on that?" Damon asked conversationally, not even looking down at her. She groaned and leaned her head onto his leather jacket, giving up on getting answers.

"Just get me out of here," she muttered. "Nobody's touching this damned bottle."

"Okay, then. I'll take her alone," he stated. Elena came up in front of him, a very serious look on her face. "Aw great, can't anyone see that I'm in a hurry here?"

"You make sure she gets there safe, Damon," Elena said warningly, and then moved to the side. "I'll meet up with you guys over there." He continued to walk as if he'd never been interrupted. Several people stared and asked questions, but Damon completely ignored them until he reached the edge of the road. He looked left and right, then down at her face. She was sweating and getting paler by the second, not to mention she was shaking softly. She met his eyes and opened her mouth to speak.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked quietly. He didn't answer, but gripped her tighter and adjusted her in his arms. "Damon, please--"

"You dizzy?" Mikaela nodded softly. "Oh, well. Close your eyes." She shook her head.

"Answer my question."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not killing you tonight. Now trust me and close your eyes."

* * *

A group of young-to-middle-aged men sat around a table, a pile of UNO cards placed face-up in the middle. They ranged in color and age, but all were considerably fit and had very clean-cut appearances. A phone rang on the wall, and the eldest of the group got up to answer. The animated game continued, but when he hung up, everyone stopped what they were doing and listened.

"Okay, I need an EMT and a driver to come with me to the high school," he announced, looking around at the group. "There's been a stabbing, an eighteen-year-old girl, Mikaela Greene."

"Mikaela Greene?" one of the EMT's repeated, already pulling his uniform shirt on over a white A-shirt. "I'll go. Rich, you drive."

"Do you know her?" the older gentleman asked. Despite being the eldest and already having gray hair, his stance was quite intimidating, and the whole team knew not to cross him. The EMT grabbed his cell phone and put his cards down.

"If I know her, then I can't go, right?"

"Exactly."

He grinned. "Then no, I don't know her, chief."

* * *

Three hospital stays in the last year, and Mikaela still had no idea how anyone could be addicted to painkilling medication. "Wake me up," she groaned, feeling her head loll from side to side. Everything seemed to blend together like in a dream, and amidst it all, the only things she could make out were white lights, blood, doctors and nurses fading in and out of focus. She groaned and tried to lift her hand to her forehead, only to find that it'd been strapped down. The nurses cried out for her to stop fighting, so she scowled and leaned back against cold pillows, rolling her eyes drunkenly.

After what felt like five minutes of drifting in and out of consciousness, Mikaela was finally able to open her eyes without feeling like she was drunk, and was met with dimmed white light. She blinked several times, then sat up, careful to not move her left arm too much. The clock on the wall read 2 o'clock in the morning, well past visiting hours, but there were two people in the room: one man sleeping in the chair pushed into the corner, and another leaning against the wall, staring at her.

He was considerably tall with natural honey-colored skin and spiky light brown hair. He had striking green eyes, and when she looked at him, he smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. "So she awakes," he said, getting off the wall. "I was starting to think you'd leave me waiting another three hours."

"Sorry," she croaked, wincing at the sound of her own voice. "Oh, God…" He chuckled and handed her a glass of water from the bedside table. She took a large gulp, then coughed and sputtered half of it out. After several attempts, she managed to finally drain the contents and her throat felt somewhat functional.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, checking the IV drip hanging from a hook. "You got quite a nasty cut from I hear."

"Are you a doctor?" she asked doubtfully, eying his jeans and white muscle shirt as she placed the cup on the table. He laughed and shook his head. "Nurse?"

"Try going a bit lower in the ranks," he answered. "I'm an EMT."

"Then what're you doing here? Shouldn't you be at your station?" she asked, then added, "In your uniform?"

"I'm off-duty," he explained. "We went to the high school to pick you up, but you were already here by the time we got there. My shift ended at eleven, so I came here."

"Aren't visiting hours over at ten?"

He shrugged. "Everyone knows me here, so they didn't give me any trouble." She eyed him warily, giving him another once-over. He had strong arms and a very sculpted chest beneath his shirt, but she couldn't place what was off about him. He was extremely familiar, yet despite how much she looked at him, she couldn't remember where she knew him from.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" she finally asked. A shadow crossed his eyes and he chuckled darkly, but he pulled a chair up next to the bedside and sat down. "I think I know you, but I can't remember from when or where."

"We've met two times before," he began, clasping his hands and leaning on the bed rail. "The first time, you were in a car accident and I transported you to the hospital. The last time was two weeks ago. I was driving home from visiting my girlfriend in Richmond, and I decided to stop for a coffee at a 24-hour café. I went in to order, but all I found was a dead body in the kitchen with a snapped neck. I went outside to call the police, and saw a man hovering outside a car, sucking the life out of a young woman's neck. I came tonight to make sure you didn't die again."

She almost stopped breathing. He smiled sheepishly and held out a hand for her to shake.

"My name's Ben, Mikaela. I pulled you out of the car in the river a couple of months ago, and two weeks ago at 3:24 AM, I declared you dead and watched you come back to life."

* * *

Sorry if this is a bit of a cliffhanger, but I hope you enjoyed it! I'm already writing the next chapter-- waiting on a review ^_^ Thanks SO much to Emily, elizabethpendragon, and Bonnie4eva x! Take care, everyone!


	6. Sadie Hawkins Dance

Author's Note:

Only fitting I publish the second part to the Friday Night Bites chapters on a Friday, right? Lame, I know, but hey, I have to try, right?

Thanks sooo much for the reviews last chapter! I tried to make this one a bit longer for you guys. Here's the last flashback to the attack, and a little bit more into her past/family life. There's a link to the dress I mentioned (I couldn't find many like the one I imagined, and that was as close as it got), and a key character (from the show) is pulled into play.

Please review! As always, I will get to work on the next chapter the moment I get my first review =] It truly makes me feel wonderful to know that you guys enjoy the story, and even more so when I see that you guys take the time to offer me your criticism and suggestions.

Enjoy the chapter! It's titled Sadie Hawkins because of the invitation made later on!

* * *

_She opened her eyes just as the zipper to the body bag was closing over her face._

"_STOP!" she screamed, throwing up her arms in defense. They were held down by the bag, but she didn't understand reasoning yet and thrashed against her restraints, flailing her arms, kicking her legs and screaming in the hope that she would be released. The somber air of the scene shifted to one of shock as those closest to the body stepped back in terror. An EMT rushed forward and undid the zipper of the body bag, taking control of the situation._

"_Miss, miss, please slow down, you've lost a lot of blood, and--"_

_She was panicking. Every movement she made caused pain, and as she bolted into an upright position, all she saw were bright red and blue lights. Somebody was speaking, but she couldn't see a face or understand what it was saying. She looked left and right, but only found that the motion caused pain. She gasped and lifted a hand to her neck, flinching as it came in contact with something sticky._

What the hell?

_She pulled her hand away from the wound and held it in front of her so she could see. Immediately she froze. The person who had been speaking was trying to convince her to slow down, and even if she did, she wasn't conscious of anything around her as she realized what was spread all over her fingertips._

_Blood._

_In an instant the memories rushed back: the café, the stranger, the dead sound of a body dropping to the ground, his face--!_

_The memory of his predatory look brought her crashing down to the vivid reality with horrible clarity. The familiar EMT was yelling for the paramedics and crime scene investigators to do their jobs, and as she watched him, he turned to her, a reassuring look on his face._

"_Miss, do you remember your name?" he asked. He pulled a thin medical flashlight out of his pocket and moved it side to side in front of her eyes. Having seen the action done on television countless times, she followed the light and obediently answered._

"_Mikaela. Mikaela Knight."_

"_Mikaela, my name's Ben Night. Night, as in, not day. I'm an EMT and I'm the one who found you. Where do you feel pain?" _

"_Everywhere," she answered honestly. "But mostly in my neck and sides."_

"_Do you feel dizzy, nauseous, lightheaded?"_

"_A bit nauseous," she answered after a moment: the overpowering smell of blood was making her throat clench and bile rise in her throat. "But just because it stinks. And actually, I do feel a little dizzy…"_

"_Do you remember what happened?" He put the flashlight away and pulled out a sphigmometer to take her blood pressure. She held out her left arm to him, only to find a series of crescent-moon shaped gashes along the interior. She stared in bewilderment at the marks and silently gave him her right arm instead._

Bite marks?

"_Mikaela?"_

_She shook her head and forced herself to focus. "Not really," she answered carefully. "I remember coming here around one o'clock in the morning for a coffee. There wasn't anybody inside except for the employee when I got here, and then this guy came and started talking to me…" She stopped and rubbed her forehead, only to realize a second too late that she'd smeared her blood all over it. Biting her lip to keep from vomiting, she took a deep breath through her mouth and continued. "I was leaving and he disappeared, but I heard somebody fall and ran for the car…" Everybody was staring at her, and suddenly the words were much harder to force out. "I, um… I got here, he grabbed me, and…"_

_She bent over and groaned: her head hurt so much…!_

"_Don't worry, we'll talk about it later. Do you have any relatives we can call?"_

_She shook her head slowly. "I dropped my mom off at the airport at eleven o'clock. She's going to South America with the Red Cross, so she hasn't landed yet, and my dad's in a coma." Her voice was no longer raspy, and she was surprised by how calm she sounded. _

Can it be the shock?

"_Call Elena, she's my neighbor and lives about an hour from here. Her number's in my phone."_

"_Okay, we'll call her," Ben said, and pulled the band off of her arm. "I'm going to lift you onto a gurney, is that alright?" She nodded and held onto his shoulders as he effortlessly lifted her off the ground. "Guys, get us to the nearest hospital!" With the help of a paramedic he strapped her onto the gurney and moved it into the ambulance. As she was lifted at an angle, she looked over the scene, amazed at how different everything looked. _

_The parking lot was no longer empty, but the truck and Volvo were still there. The Volvo looked exactly the same as it had the last time she'd seen it, but the truck was a different story. The lights were all on in the cabin and several crime scene investigators were rummaging around inside, taking prints and gathering evidence. On the windshield were blood splatters that she had mistaken for dirt when she'd first gotten to the café, and with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized that he had not, in fact, been sleeping when she'd seen him. The body bag lying on the ground next to the truck confirmed that, and right before her eyes, she saw two other men pull a second body bag out of the café._

Jeff. Had he known his name when he'd killed him?

_Her vision blurred and her head involuntarily dropped back. The lights and colors inside of the ambulance all swam together and she swore she felt the ground begin to rock, but Ben's face stayed clear. She grabbed his arm weakly, begging him silently to look at her._

"_Who are you?" she asked quietly. _

"_I'm Ben, remember?" he answered. "Please turn your head to the side so I can bandage your neck." He held a gauze pad in his hand but she refused to move._

"_How do I know you?" He stared at her, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "You look so familiar…I know I know you from someplace, but I can't remember from where or when."_

_His face became even more serious and he moved so she could look him straight in the light green eyes. He had spiky brown hair and tan skin, and besides the uniform, he had a strangely earthy feel to him. He leaned down and whispered so that only she could hear him. "I found you thrown in the driver's seat of a car with some guy hanging over the door," he stated. "He ran away when he saw me, and I called the ambulance and the police. I was too late, though, Mikaela. I declared you dead at 3:24 this morning."_

_She stared at him doubtfully, her grip on his arm increasing. "Isn't your name Mikaela Greene?" he asked suddenly. She gave him a quizzical look._

"_That's what I said," she stated. He shook his head._

"_You said your name was Mikaela Knight." His gaze didn't waver, and after several seconds, she did what her body had been begging her to do since the moment she woke up._

_She fainted._

Mikaela stared openly at Ben as the memories came back. Recognition lit her face and he smiled softly, nodding. "Remember now?" he asked, holding a hand to her forehead. "Looks like your fever's gone down already…"

"Ben Night, as in not-day… You saved my life?" she asked quietly, ignoring his question. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Honey, I administered CPR and did everything I could, but you were gone," he answered, placing heavy emphasis on the word "gone". "I don't know who you were so set on coming back to, but whoever he is, he's one lucky guy to have a girl that can cheat death."

Her cheeks flushed red. "There is no guy--"

"Yeah, I consider myself pretty lucky." She jumped and bit back a cry of surprise as Damon appeared only two feet away from Ben, a strange smile on his face. She scanned his face for any malice and braced herself for attack, but his expression was very calm, which could only mean disaster. With the memories so fresh in her mind, she found it almost surreal that he could be in the same room with her without trying to-- for lack of a better term-- eat her. He held out a hand to the unshaken EMT as he introduced himself. "Damon. Damon Salvatore. You are?"

"Ben, Benji Night," Ben answered coolly, firmly grasping Damon's hand. "I'm the EM--"

"I know what you are," Damon interrupted, and walked past him to stand next to Mikaela. "You didn't die again, did you?"

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes at him for the joke. He smirked and bent down close to her, making her whole body stiffen as he pressed a hand to her forehead.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" he asked innocently. "But if you ask me her fever just spiked. Maybe you should leave." She tried to push him away, but he'd already stood up straight with vampire speed and moved to the other side of the bed. Mikaela immediately turned to see Ben's reaction, but his face was guarded and he was picking up his jacket from the chair, his back turned to them. Maybe he hadn't seen Damon's movements?

"You're right, visiting hours _are_ over, so it's best you get going," Damon added. Ben stopped what he was doing and crossed his arms, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself down.

"Listen, I'm just here to make sure she's alright," he said calmly.

"That's what the doctors are for. You should know that, considering your resume."

Mikaela wanted to groan, but knew that would only attract more unwanted attention from Damon. There she was, meeting the guy who had most likely saved her life (_twice!_), and _he_ had to come and ruin it. She'd known him for so little time, and yet was quickly realizing he had a natural talent to ruining everything around him.

"And what are _you_ doing here?"

"Her mother's on a trip, so I'm staying overnight with her," Damon answered matter-of-factly. "Don't lose any sleep over her health."

She didn't want Ben to go, but the way the conversation was going, if Ben didn't leave, Damon would toss him out the window. Her suspicions were confirmed when he pulled on his jacket in symbolic surrender. To her surprise, though, he came next to her and pressed a quick kiss on her forehead.

It wasn't like electricity, and no butterflies rose in her stomach. He looked to be about twenty or twenty-one, and yes, he was quite handsome, but she didn't react to him the way she normally would have to a cute guy, or feel repulsed the way she would have with a stranger. His lips were tender, very much like a lifelong friend's, but that wasn't possible: they'd barely known each other for an hour despite the strange circumstances. He pulled away and exited the room without another word, closing the door behind him.

Damon whistled. "Talk about forward," he commented. "He's here for a couple of hours and he thinks he can get to first base."

Mikaela groaned and dropped her head back against the pillows: the warm spell was over. "What do you want from me?" she asked, not wanting to look at him. He chuckled and moved to the seat where Ben had been only a couple of seconds before. "I was doped up on painkillers, so I didn't dream anything."

"How are you feeling?" he asked conversationally.

"Fine," she muttered. "The meds still haven't worn off, so--"

"Check your arm."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes again, Mikaela lifted her bandaged arm out from underneath the blankets and held it up. "I can't exactly check it what with the stitches and--" Without warning Damon shot his hand out and ripped the bandage off. She cried out instinctively and braced herself for pain, but to her surprise, there was none. Peeling open one eye, and then the other, Mikaela's jaw dropped as she registered what she was seeing.

On the inside of her wrist where there should have been a circle of deep, jagged gashes, there was nothing but unscarred white skin. She stared and twisted her hand around, shocked to find she had complete functionality of her wrist and fingers. When she'd determined that she was, in fact, healed, she looked at Damon questioningly.

"You're welcome," he said smugly, leaning back on the chair and propping his legs on the bed. She shifted around so that his legs weren't touching her.

"What happened?" she asked dazedly. It couldn't be possible that he would help her. She'd sworn when he'd run off with her that it would be either to kill her or snack on her, and yet there she was, very much alive and unscathed. Could it really be?

"I ran you to the hospital, took you to the emergency room, compelled a nurse to admit you, then snuck you a sip or two of my blood," he explained casually, folding his hands on his stomach. "You can thank me later when you're begging for more."

"Begging?" she repeated doubtfully. He rolled his eyes this time.

"It can be addictive," he explained. "Makes you kind of crazy, but it did what it was supposed to. Don't worry, you won't turn unless you die with--"

"Why would you do that?"

Silence fell. He didn't move and his expression didn't change, but she refused to let the question drop: there had to be a price. "You didn't have to help me, and it would have been convenient if I'd gotten hurt-- wasn't that why you threw me into the fight?"

"No, _that_ was revenge for slapping me," he corrected, holding up a finger. "Next time you hit me, I'll have Caroline set the cheerleading squad on you."

"Oooh, scary."

The comment slipped out. She hadn't planned on encouraging his jokes, no matter how sarcastic her comments may have been, and wished she could take it back, especially when he smirked at her out the corner of his eye. "Well well, looks like we're old friends now," he said cheerfully.

"We're _not_ friends," she stated flatly. To further her point, she leaned forward and tried to shove his legs off the bed. "If anything, we hate each other, so get off!"

"I don't hate you, Mikaela," he argued, but allowed her to push his legs away. "You're just on that thin line between being convenient and a troublemaker."

"How am I causing you trouble?" she retorted. "If anything, you're causing _me_ trouble! I'm not the one stalking you!"

"And you're not the one saving my life," he shot back. "I'm still waiting on that thank you."

"It's your fault I got into the fight in the first place," she grumbled, crossing her arms. He raised a brow, but kept that smirk in place.

"I know you're all high on my blood, but come on-- I doubt you'd have preferred your little boyfriend get all bloodied up by the Gilbert kid."

"Ex."

Her hand flew up to her mouth in an instant and she winced: Why the hell was she word-vomiting at him? She didn't need him to know about another person she cared about! He gave her a dumbfounded look, then burst into laughter. She sunk into the bed, wishing the earth would swallow her up to hide her shame.

"Wow, a Greene and a Lockwood-- I never would've guessed!" he exclaimed, throwing his head back. She glared at him, her hand still covering her mouth. "I was _joking_ when I called him your boyfriend before, but--!"

With unnecessary aggressiveness, she threw the sheets off of herself and climbed out of bed. She was barefooted and the floor was cold, but she didn't care: she needed at least one minute without him hovering over her. With relief she saw that she was still wearing the jean skirt and black t-shirt she'd worn to the game, and that none of the nurses had bothered to change her into one of the hospital gowns-- having Damon get a look at her backside would be more than she could handle.

The handle to the bathroom door was just within reach when he moved into the way. She dropped her hand and looked up at him tiredly, just waiting for him to say what he wanted to get it over with. The effect of his blood had her on something of a rollercoaster between highs where Damon seemed almost like a normal person and her emotions skyrocketed, and normalcy where she just wanted him to stop threatening her and go away. She was returning to reality and he seemed to notice, because he got straight to the point.

"I saved your life."

"Yes," she confirmed, nodding her head. She'd passed out from blood loss halfway to the hospital, so her chances of survival had been slim. Maybe she would've survived anyways, maybe not: she had a tendency of doing that.

"I need a favor."

"What do you want?" His expression was almost serious, but not quite: he still had his theatrical mannerisms, and always looked like he was playing some big joke on humanity. Then again, chances were that he was, in fact, playing one big joke on humanity. He sighed dramatically and leaned against the bathroom doorframe, staring off into the distance as if contemplating something.

"The Salvatore's aren't invited to the Founder's Ball anymore," he said thoughtfully. "Hmm… maybe if someone from one of the Founding Families could take me as their date…"

"It's been cancelled this year," she stated.

"Not for long," he insisted, smiling mischievously. "I have my connections."

"I'm not going."

"Well, now you are, and you're taking me, Caroline."

"Go ask the real Caroline," she snapped, and shoved past him into the bathroom. He gripped her upper arm and snapped her back outside like a rubber band, slamming the door shut behind her and throwing her against it. Without thinking, she growled and thrashed at him, ready to draw blood at the first opportunity.

Within a second he'd grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. She cried out and struggled to get away, but one look at the veins protruding around his eyes and the bared fangs behind his lips was enough to make her freeze. He moved closer and closer to her neck until he heard her heartbeat accelerate. The sweat breaking out on her skin and her frantic breathing seemed to convince him she knew who was superior. Slowly the fangs were retracted and the darkness around his eyes faded away, but the general predatory air remained. She gritted her teeth and waited for him to do whatever he was going to do, kill her, speak, punish her, leave…

"Now that I've made myself clear, I want you to wait until my blood has gotten out of your system, and then find me," he said in a low voice, watching her every move carefully. "You're taking me because if I have to stand another hour of listening to Caroline's voice, I just might rip her throat out. Am I making myself clear?"

When she realized he was waiting for an answer, she nodded stiffly. He smiled. "Good. Now, ask me." She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me to go to the Founder's Ball with you," he answered simply. She wanted to ask him if he was serious, but judging by the fact that he didn't take those pale blue eyes off of hers for even a second, she could tell that he was. Biting her lip, she forced herself to keep her composure and spit out the words.

"Damon, will you…" She paused to take a deep breath. "…Come to the Founder's Ball… with… me…?"

"Why of course, Miss Greene! I thought you'd never ask."

She glared at him and his cheeky grin, and it was just too much. She tore her gaze away from his and tried to pull out of his grasp. "Alright, you're invited, now can you let me go already?" For a moment it seemed like he wouldn't let he go, but he eventually released her wrists. She turned around to open the bathroom door, but before she could reach freedom, he latched onto the handle and slammed a hand against the door.

She closed her eyes and held her breath as he leaned forward, brushing his cheek next to hers. The need to run was both mental and physical: her body begged to get away from the threat and her mind screamed reminders of all he had done, but fear was stronger, leaving her frozen. He ran a hand softly down her arm, watching as goose bumps rose where his skin met hers.

He was going to say something: he _always_ had something to say.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She scanned the room and saw the telltale open window, but he was nowhere to be found. After a couple of seconds passed without him appearing out of nowhere, Mikaela snuck into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Everything in the room was stark white, but she wasn't going to take a shower or use the toilet. With slight apprehension, she approached the sink and looked up at the large mirror.

A confused girl stared back, eyes wild and skin pale. On her neck, small white scars dotted the skin, and some scabs still had yet to heal over. She lightly ran her fingers over them, marveling at how much damage she had survived. Why had she survived?

Why was she still alive?

A vampire had threatened her life several times over the course of two days, and actually killed her once. Why was she still standing? Damon had made it clear that he would kill her without hesitation if she became a problem, but he hadn't, had he?

Elizabeth Knight came into her mind at that moment, but she couldn't explain why. Her ancestor had encountered vampires and killed herself, leaving behind only a curse to her name. Mikaela lowered her hand and turned on the cold water faucet. Cupping some water with her hands, she splashed it on her face and wiped away the dust from the fight, then dried herself off with paper towels. Setting her jaw, she stood up straight and looked at her reflection.

She'd made it that far, hadn't she?

She'd cheated death not once, but twice in less than a year.

If she was going to go, it was going to be fighting, not at the mercy of some sadistic vampire.

Damon Salvatore had to go.

* * *

The house was as it always was early in the morning: silent.

He should have been sleeping, but the smell of human blood had unsettled him, so he'd been forced to hunt right after escorting Elena home. She'd asked far too many questions regarding Damon's and Mikaela's relationship, questions he wouldn't have been able to answer if he'd wanted to. It was obvious the girl knew their secret, but as far as he could tell, she hadn't told anyone and didn't have any interest in doing so, either. It was quite possible she'd known for a while, but what with the way she avoided him like the plague, it was impossible for him to tell.

The only assurance he'd gotten from Damon was that he had the situation "under control", which was really not reassuring at all. He'd seen his brother throw the girl into the fight for no apparent reason and then carry her to the hospital, again for no apparent reason; it was becoming difficult to tell if he wanted the girl dead or as a plaything. Either way, things weren't looking too good for Mikaela, and Stefan couldn't think of a way to change that.

Exiting the bathroom completely cleaned of animal blood and fully clothed, Stefan made his way into the den. There, to his surprise, he found Zack and Damon. The grandfather clock against the wall showed that it was almost 6 o'clock in the morning, just a little bit later than the time that Zack normally woke up.

His nephew looked up at him with a considerable amount of alarm in his eyes, but at a glance from Damon, he looked back down at the glass of whiskey in his hand. Damon leaned against the wall next to the fireplace with an emptier glass of his own and a mischievous smile on his face. "Why hello there, brother," he greeted. "Up awfully early for breakfast, aren't you? What'd you have this time, Bambi or Lassie?"

"What's going on?" Stefan asked seriously, ignoring Damon's comments. Damon sighed and got up from his spot on the wall.

"Zack and I were just having some family quality time," Damon said innocently, holding up his hands. "I wanted to get to know my nephew a bit, and believe it or not, I've found out some pretty interesting things."

"At six o'clock in the morning, Damon?" Stefan said doubtfully, already knowing there was something at work here.

"Did you know that Zack here is Mikaela's godfather?" Damon asked, gesturing at the very uncomfortable Zack. Stefan didn't react, simply watched his brother. "I know, crazy, right? Only reason I found out was by breaking into the city records. Here I thought family would share such important information with each other!"

"What are you getting at, Damon?"

"Did you also happen to know that our dear nephew, Zack, practically raised her?" he continued as if uninterrupted, walking over to stand next to Zack. "Yeah! Turns out her daddy dearest burned the house down fourteen years ago-- very dramatic, there was a police investigation and everything--, and so Zack here took her in. He knows everything from the foods she's allergic to, to her middle name, to the fact that she's been having psychic nightmares since the age of five!"

"And this is useful to you how?" Stefan pressed. Damon downed what was left of his whiskey, patted Zack on the head, and moved at vampire speed to the dry bar for a refill. "What do you want with the girl, Damon?"

"Do you remember an Elizabeth Knight, Stefan?" Damon asked. "It's a rhetoric question, by the way, I know you don't remember. She's one of Mikaela's ancestors, and it turns out she was a witch. Mikaela just might be one too, and that could be very useful to me in my ultimate plan."

"Which would be?"

Damon laughed and shook his head. "Uh uh uh, Stefan! I thought we already went over this," he said in a sing-song voice, wagging a finger at him. "You are out of the loop, and that's how it's gonna stay." He swallowed the whole drink at once and then stretched his arms over his head. "Now, I don't know about you two, but I could use a little shut-eye." He winked at Zack. "Nice chat, by the way." And with that, he left to his room.

Zack waited until he heard the sound of Damon's bedroom door closing before getting to his feet. Stefan could see by the firelight that there were light bruises on his neck, most likely at Damon's fault. "What happened, Zack?" he asked, rushing forward. The man was normally serious and, even when in discomforting situations, quiet, but at that moment, all Stefan could see was pure anger. With a growl of frustration, he chucked the glass into the fireplace, watching with satisfaction as the flames momentarily grew.

"She knows?" he asked in a whisper. With some hesitation, Stefan nodded. "Since when?"

"Damon… attacked her about two weeks ago," he answered slowly, gauging the man's expression. Zack shut his eyes and sucked in a breath, dropping back onto the armchair. "He says that she knows what we are and hasn't told anyone, but I haven't been able to talk to her--"

"I did everything possible to make sure she didn't get involved," Zack cut in, running a hand through his hair. "The Founding Families wanted her on the council for her visions, but I couldn't…" he trailed off and shook his head. "I haven't even spoken to her since her father went into the coma."

"Her father's in a coma?" Stefan repeated. Zack nodded.

"Car accident. She was staying here for the weekend, but started having a panic attack, so he came to get her. The car drove straight off of Wickery Bridge," he explained. "She barely survived, but he ended up in a coma. He was an active member of the Council and they wanted her to take his place, but I threatened to stop supplying them if they did. She's too young to be involved in this."

"Supplying them what?"

He stopped and scanned the room before answering. "I'll show you tomorrow, when he's not around."

* * *

**A Couple of Days Later:**

If he'd been awake, her father would have compared her to some beautiful, important woman in history. That's what he always did whenever she got dressed up.

It'd been several days since she'd been released from the hospital, but Mikaela hadn't looked for Damon like he'd told her to. Based on what Caroline told Bonnie who told Elena, he'd been spending the majority of his free time with her, doing her or whatever else it was they did when they were together. Although she didn't mention it, Mikaela saw the signs, and could tell at a glance that one of the other things he did with her was feed.

The scarves, the lapses in memory, the rehearsed responses-- Caroline had become the very definition of a blood puppet, and based on the amount of compulsion it took to keep someone that oblivious, she found it only logical that he would prefer to take her because she was so easily influenced by him. He hadn't shown up anywhere and she hadn't had anymore nightmares about being attacked, so she could only assume that he'd moved onto the next subject of interest, and that was perfectly fine by her.

She took a careful look at herself in the full-length mirror in Elena's room. The form-fitting spaghetti-strap dress was a vibrant blue and fanned out at the hips so it brushed the tops of her knees. It had a square neckline and she wore her customary silver cross. It was partially hidden by a black scarf, but after a moment's observation, she pulled it off and threw it to the side: the bruises and scabs had already healed, so all that was left were light scars, and she wasn't going to hide them anymore.

"Mikaela!" Jenna called up the stairs. "Elena's leaving and we are, too!"

"Coming!" she yelled back, and hurriedly pulled on a pair of black boots. Jenna had offered to give her a ride to the Founder's Ball, so she didn't want to keep her waiting. Elena had already done her makeup for her, so all Mikaela did was grab her silver tear-drop earrings off the nightstand and her black hand-bag before bolting out. She passed by Jeremy's locked door and rushed down the stairs, not wanting to keep Jenna waiting. "Okay, I'm ready!"

Stefan and Elena were already walking out the door arm-in-arm, a perfect couple, if Mikaela had ever seen one before. She and Stefan had spoken briefly when he'd gone with Elena and Jenna to pick her up at the hospital, and had won her over by getting her car safely onto her driveway the night of the fight. Their treaty was simple: so long as he didn't drink from humans and didn't hurt Elena, he was as much of a friend to her as Matt and Tyler. She smiled at him and winked at Elena.

"We single ladies will see you lovebirds at the ball," she said teasingly, wrapping an arm around Jenna's waist. They both smiled and waved goodbye before walking out the door.

"You ready to go, kiddo?" Jenna asked. Mikaela shrugged, but smiled.

"Let's go, Aunt Jenna."

They piled into Jenna's car and she started the engine. Mikaela pulled on a pair of sunglasses, opened the windows, and rested her head back with a content sigh.

Almost everyone she knew was going to the event, and Tyler had to go, which was a plus. Ever since the fight, he'd been calling her at least three times a day to check up on her, and had shown up at Elena's house twice to make sure she hadn't been lying about being fine. They were on pretty good terms, and despite how much she'd warned herself not to, she found herself greatly enjoying his company. Exes weren't supposed to be so friendly, but she couldn't help it: she'd known him for almost her whole life, and because Damon had pretty much disappeared for the past couple of days, she'd been able to loosen up enough to even hang out at the Mystic Grill with him the day before.

It _had_ been over a year… maybe they could at least dance?

"Wow, isn't he a looker?" Jenna mused.

"Hmm?" Mikaela mumbled, not opening her eyes.

"Wait a second…" She turned off the car. "He blocked me!"

Mikaela sat up and looked over her shoulder to see who Jenna was talking about. All she could see, however, was a dark-blue muscle car with the top pulled back and a man in a tuxedo walking towards the passenger side of Jenna's car. Before she had time to figure out who he was, he opened her door and leaned inside, smiling warmly at Jenna.

"Hello Miss Gilbert, sorry I was late, but I'll be taking Mikaela to the Founder's Ball this evening," Damon declared, and held his hand out for her.

Mikaela stared. She's talked herself into a false sense of security when he hadn't followed up on his forced invitation; now that she thought about it, however, she should've known. "So long as it's okay with Mikaela, I guess...?" Jenna trailed off, looking at her questioningly. Mikaela looked at Damon, trying to read his face. His smile became less warm and turned into more of a grin, but she doubted Jenna could tell the difference. He knew he'd caught her off-guard, and he liked that.

She set her jaw. "It's fine by me," she said with fake casualness, and smiled briefly at Jenna. "See you at the Ball." With her heart racing and hands shaking, she took off her seatbelt and accept the offered hand, allowing him to pull her out of the car. Damon said a quick goodbye and gave his promise to get her to the ball safely before closing the door. He leaned close to her and placed a hand against the small of her back, leading her to the car.

"Didn't think I forgot about you, did you, Mikaela?"

"More like hoped," she said calmly. He chuckled and opened the car door for her before walking over to the driver's side and starting the engine.

"Ready to go, Miss Greene?"

Mikaela didn't say anything and simply looked out at the world flashing by as she tightened her grip on the wooden stake in her purse.

* * *

Hope y'all like it =]!

Founder's Ball next chapter, more Zack, Tyler, Damon and Caroline, as well as some excitement ^_^ Review, please and thank you!


	7. Star Crossed

Author's Note:

Apologies are in order.

I've just started college and have been running around- this summer was nothing short of hectic. I went from being single to being in a military relationship to being single again; I started with a major in nursing and within two days switched to micrbiology; I've worked my a$$ off and got two full scholarships; now I'm still working, but I've finally got this chapter out. There's a little bit of Damon, some Tyler, some Stefan, and what I hope to be a bit of a surprise, but here y'all go- thanks to you guys who reviewed, you know who you are, it's cuz of you that this chapter got out at all!

Take care!

* * *

Once upon a time, Mikaela had looked forward to coming to Founder's Balls.

In a matter of hours, it had become one of the most disappointing nights of her life.

She stood by the punch bowl with a full champagne glass in her hands, watching with skeptical eyes as people passed by. Guests were semi-formally dressed and the Lockwood manor was beautifully decorated. Everything from the lights hanging over the dance floor and the perfectly uniformed servers screamed wealth, but if there was one thing the founding family knew how to do, it was how to throw a beautiful party with the worst possible music. It took great self-control for Mikaela not to fall asleep standing up with the tasteless classical music flowing in from the patio.

Her dad had always taken her as his date. Her mother didn't appreciate social events and they didn't have many female relatives, so they'd always turned the founder's event into a father-daughter outing. Last year had been the last time she'd come with him, but freshman year and the year before that, Tyler had taken her as his date. She preferred not to think back on those days, but in comparison to the night she was having, they seemed pretty great. This was the first time she could say she wasn't enjoying the ball, and it was all due to the simple fact that Damon was present.

She downed her glass at once and set it on the table for a refill. The Sheriff eyed her from across the hall, but Mikaela could care less about what she thought: the bartender was serving her cider, and to hell if it looked like anything else. Once she'd received her drink, she nodded her thanks and started walking around. Throughout the first floor, historic artifacts from the Founding Families were on display. She reached a model of Fell's church and was reading the description when a familiar voice came up next to her.

"Enjoying the festivities?"

With the slightest air of apprehension, she turned to meet his gaze. "I'm counting the hours until I can leave, Mr. Salvatore," she answered with a false smile. "Has Damon succeeded in ruining your evening as well?"

Stefan's pleasant smile melted into a grimace. He looked around casually and leaned closer. "He made you invite him, didn't he?" he asked. It came out as more of a statement than a question.

She nodded, lifting the glass to her lips and taking a sip. To her surprise, what she tasted on her tongue wasn't cider, but white wine. Thinking back on it, the server had seemed new to the job, but she had no doubt he'd be fired if the Sheriff decided to check her drink. Without feeling guilty at all, she forced herself to swallow the rest of the wine, wincing at the taste.

"Damon must have compelled the bartender to switch the bottles," Stefan mused, furrowing his eyebrows. She waved away his concern.

"Speaking of the devil, I haven't seen your brother for a while," she said, scanning the people for signs of said person. "That should only mean he'll show up any minute now." A waiter passed by with an empty tray and she placed her glass on it to get rid of the evidence. "Where's Elena?"

"She's with Caroline," he replied carefully. "I think you're going to get a lecture later on about stealing your friend's boyfriend." Mikaela rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to be getting information from you right now about the whole situation."

"I made a mistake. Can I return him? Please? I've repented of my sins!" she whispered in fake desperation. "I swear I'll never allow a guy to forcefully invite himself as my date again!" Stefan didn't laugh at the joke, but rather lifted a hand and squeezed her shoulder.

"My brother has a tendency to… play with people," he said apologetically. She stiffened under his touch: as comfortable as she felt talking to him, he was still a predator, and she didn't feel all that comfortable with physical contact yet. He seemed to notice, because he promptly hooked his thumbs in his pockets and continued talking. "He isn't going to get away with it for much longer, though."

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him, but he was casually observing the model of the church to keep up appearances. When he didn't explain further, she moved a bit closer (far enough that they weren't touching) and pretended to be just as interested as he was. "Why not?"

"I've got a plan," he said quietly, taking a sip of his champagne. "I'll need your help, or Caroline's."

A spark of hope seemed to shine in the darkness, but before Mikaela could answer, an arm snaked around her waist and jerked her away from it. She didn't even have to see his face or smell him to know it was Damon: the simple inconvenience of the gesture was as representative of him as his baby blue eyes. She had to hold onto him to keep from losing her balance, but even so, she kept as much distance between their bodies as possible.

"Stefan," Damon greeted with a smirk. "Lovely evening to steal a date, isn't it?"

Mikaela growled and tried to jerk away, but he only pulled her back and clamped her against his body. "Let her go, Damon. We were just talking," Stefan said tiredly. Mikaela figured they'd been fighting for most of the day.

"Really?" Damon questioned doubtfully. "Mikaela, what was our dear Stefan here talking to you about?" She tried again to break free of his grip, but he tightened his arms around her waist to a painful degree. When she finally stilled, he leaned down next to her ear. "I'm waiting."

"We were talking about how you forced me to bring you," she snapped, "and your issue with pushing yourself onto girls who have no interest of being around you." Nobody was in the room to hear her, but even so, she kept her voice low. Stefan stared in bewilderment of how boldly she spoke out against him, but to his surprise, Damon just chuckled and let her go.

She immediately put several feet of distance between them and warily looked back. Damon watched her curiously, but didn't grab at her again. With an air of dignity, she straightened her dress, readjusted her purse on her shoulder and walked toward the hallway. The less evil of the brothers called after her as she left, but she didn't stop.

"Elena wants you to text her," Stefan said. "It's urgent."

"Do you even know what texting is, Stefan? You're so behind on these things…" Mikaela hurried to the bathroom before she could hear the rest of Damon's teasing.

* * *

Bonnie was starting to think she should have skipped out on the Founder's Ball this year.

Even if she got the same invitation as everybody else, she'd always attended this specific event with Elena or Caroline. This year Elena was taking Stefan, so Caroline had agreed she'd go with her to the ball. Overnight though, with no warning, she'd changed her mind and said she was taking Damon. After a short spat, Bonnie had figured she'd either go by herself or skip out on it altogether.

Then, not even a day before the ball itself, Caroline had called crying in the dead of the night, saying something about Damon going with Mikaela instead and how she needed Bonnie for emotional support. Bonnie hadn't been able to believe it at first: Mikaela dating Caroline's boyfriend? It just didn't sound right. As much as she'd tried to convince Caroline that it was a misunderstanding, the cheerleader had firmly insisted it was true, so she'd agreed to help her through the night.

Surely enough, as hard as Bonnie found it to wrap her mind around the fact, the more she saw of the two, the more she saw that there was no denying it.

Mikaela and Damon Salvatore were dating.

The pair in question had arrived together and even made their entrance linked arm in arm. Caroline had gone into drama-queen mode and retreated to the bathroom to cry for half an hour, after which she made the customary switch to super-bitch mode and started dancing with every guy present to make him jealous.

Damon being the player he was, however, he hadn't even noticed and continued following Mikaela around. Bonnie had watched Mikaela, and it was obvious that she wasn't comfortable with him. Then again, really, who was? He was a merciless flirt and could make any woman squirm with a single look. The two didn't mix- at least, not the new Mikaela. Maybe a year or two ago they'd have made an interesting couple, but she had changed ever since the car accident, and had closed herself off to romance.

Bonnie sighed and looked up from the napkin she'd been playing with. She sat alone at a table with unlit candles, but Mikaela hurried out of the bathroom, lips tight and eyes narrowed, which immediately piqued her interest. Mikaela had worn a dark blue dress for the occasion and looked beautiful as always, but her expression was much too stern. This was normally the sign to steer clear of the hard-headed teenager, but rather than follow her instincts and keep her distance, Bonnie took a deep breath and got to her feet.

She wanted an explanation for all of the drama Mikaela had caused. Even if Mikaela had been raised with the rest of them in Mystic Falls, she'd changed once they entered high school, and separated herself after the car accident that left her father in a coma. Bonnie had tried to rebuild the bridges that had collapsed between them, but no matter how much time they all spent together, she refused to speak of anything more important than the latest gossip or school activities. Getting her to tell her what was going on would be a bit tricky, but she decided to face the challenge.

She met her friend halfway in front of the dry bar. Why the self-proclaimed witch seemed intimidating all of a sudden was beyond her, but as she forced herself forward in her very uncomfortable high heels, she found that all she wanted to do was turn around and sit down again. Mikaela had her back to her and was looking over the crowd, seemingly unaware of her. Refusing to let fear win, she came up next to her and cleared her throat.

"Hey," Bonnie greeted casually, smiling as if nothing were wrong. Mikaela turned around and took her in. The serious look on her face didn't go away, but she forced a smile and nodded in acknowledgement. Bonnie felt some of her tension disappear and relaxed.

This was just Mikaela, not some super-powered sorceress of intimidation, right?

"Hey Bon, enjoying the party?" she asked stiffly. Bonnie may not have been involved in Mikaela's intimate life as of late, but she could tell when something was wrong. She raised an eyebrow, letting her know the act wasn't working.

"Come on, Kay," Bonnie said, snaking her arm with Mikaela's and leading her back in the direction she'd come. Maybe some one-on-one girl time was what they needed. "Give me an update. Caroline hates your guts right now and Damon Salvatore can't keep his hands off. Are you two back together?"

"**So** not together," Mikaela muttered darkly, allowing herself to be led into the privacy of the ladies' restroom. The door closing behind them provided the wall of silence necessary to gossip freely. Mikaela lifted herself onto the counter and leaned her back against the wall while Bonnie rested her hip against a sink.

"So?" Bonnie pressed, watching her expectantly. "What's going on?"

Mikaela sighed and dropped her head back, closing her eyes. "Damon forced me to bring him," she explained, the words coming out somewhat reluctantly. "He didn't want to come with Caroline, but he needed someone to invite him, so he blackmailed me."

"He blackmailed you?" she repeated. When Mikaela nodded, her jaw dropped. She'd expected many things: Mikaela having mixed feelings, possibly just going with the flow, maybe even getting talked into it because of some carnal attraction, but blackmail had been the last thing she'd thought of. "What did he say?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she stated, and then shrugged. "He's not gonna be able to harass me much longer, anyways."

"Kay, how do you know? If he has something that he can use against you-"

"Trust me."

With those last words, Mikaela jumped down to the floor and straightened her dress. She smiled at Bonnie, but left before she could ask any more questions. Bonnie stood in confusion for a couple of seconds after she heard the bathroom door close, but even in the silence, she couldn't find any mystical understanding of what was going on. She'd thought they were making a breakthrough, but she should have known better: Mikaela hardly opened up, and when she did, it was about all of the witch craft business, which was really just one big joke. Why Bonnie had even hoped they could have a normal conversation, she didn't know. Holding back the urge to groan in frustration, she turned around.

A pair of hands gripped her shoulders tightly and held her in place. Damon stood not even inches away, head cocked to the side and flirtatious smirk plastered on his lips. "Hello Bonnie," he greeted. She gasped and opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her.

"Don't make a sound," he ordered calmly, looking her straight in the eyes. She felt the breath leave her chest and nodded: he was right, she should be quiet… He looked incredibly handsome in his black dinner jacket and dress pants, but in his eyes you could see why they'd all dubbed him "Sexy Danger Guy". He looked her up and down, completely unaffected by her appearance. "Now Bonnie, you're going to answer my questions. Why were you talking to Mikaela?"

"I wanted to know why she was here with you," Bonnie answered obediently. She could trust him, right?

"What did she say?"

"She said you blackmailed her."

"What else?"

"That you aren't going to be able to bother her anymore."

His expression became very serious then, but after a moment he nodded. "Thank you Bonnie," he said with a smirk, any trace of seriousness gone. "Now, you're going to forget we had this conversation, and you're going to go home. If Mikaela even mentions me to you, you're going to convince her I'm the best thing that could happen to her. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Cryptic messages were the worst.

She held her handbag at her side with all of her strength, refusing to loosen her grip even if just for a second. Her arms were shaking and her back was overly stiff, but she didn't care: she needed to get out of the Lockwood manor as fast as possible, and to hell with appearances. "Text Elena, it's urgent," Stefan had said. When she'd gone to the bathroom to check her cell phone, right next to the wooden stake she'd made the day before, she found a test tube. It had been filled with a floral-scented liquid and had a label with a single word etched onto it:

_Drink._

There was only one way that her drinking the liquid could possibly affect Damon, and Mikaela was in no way, shape or form prepared to do the deed. Sure, it was easy to back-talk him in moments of anger, but to intentionally get herself bitten was borderline suicidal, and he'd already killed her once. Call her a coward, but she couldn't do it, not at that moment. Maybe after a night's rest she'd realize it was the most logical course of action, but until then-

"Kaela?"

She was a couple of yards from the exit when she heard his voice. As tended to happen when he was near, her focus shifted from her own problems to the boy who had been the center of her universe freshman year. Almost against her will she stopped and turned to see the familiar face paired with the familiar football player body and all-too familiar stance. She gulped: she didn't think she could handle him, either. Tyler moved forward, effectively closing the gap between them. Stuffing his hands into his pockets awkwardly, he took a deep breath and forced himself to speak.

"Are you enjoying the party?" he asked stiffly. She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows: he wasn't being himself. She looked at Tyler questioningly, and an understanding passed between them. She nodded ever so slightly and forced a polite smile.

"I'm enjoying it very much," she answered, loud enough for Mrs. Lockwood to hear from wherever she was eavesdropping. "Everything looks beautiful, as always."

"Thank you," he said, just as stiffly as before. "Have you seen the garden yet?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Would you like to?"

He held out his arm for her to take. It was an open invitation: she'd played her part and could leave now, but she could tell he didn't want her to. Mrs. Lockwood walked away, satisfied. She had a choice, and she wasn't obligated to be nice to him. Hell, wasn't he the one who'd screwed up sophomore year? As much of an asshole as he'd been during their relationship, she'd been faithful to him despite it all. He was the one who'd cheated, right?

So why did she still feel the need to be close to him?

"I would love to see the garden."

The words came out as if by supernatural force, but the way she linked her arm with his was as natural as breathing. He didn't smile or even look at her, but led her to the patio. Even back in the day, he hadn't been one to express any sort of normal, human, non-sexual emotion more than he had to. No, she'd been the one forcing the communication and expressing herself enough for the both of them.

At some point she acknowledged that he wasn't leading her to the garden, but she didn't say anything and allowed herself to follow him to the dance floor. Many people were already dancing under the garden lights, but at the edge of the hardwood, she stopped.

He looked at her, a hint of annoyance on his face. "What?" he asked. She looked between him and the dance floor.

"You don't dance," she stated. He rolled his eyes.

"You're right, I don't dance," he agreed. For even the slightest moment, she saw a smile flit across his lips, but in a blink it was gone. She stared, wondering if he was remembering this same night back in freshman year, the first time he took her to the Founder's Ball…

The garden lights blinked out, and for a moment, all she saw was the clear night sky, stars winking down brightly. She blinked and the lights came back on. Everybody was still dancing as if nothing had happened, so she smiled and stepped forward. "I'm not forcing you to dance with me," she said carefully. "You know what that means, right?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his hand insistently. "Yeah yeah, I know what it means," he said impatiently. "It means I want to. Don't make a big deal about it." She smirked and accepted his hand, but just as a new song began to play, she made a horrible mistake.

It was like the optometrist had put a new lens over her eyes. She looked up at the sky and saw nothing but thick dark clouds, enough to hide all of the stars from sight. Why had she seen stars in a clear night sky? On cue, slide number two came over her eyes and the lights went out again. The clouds flickered out of existence and were replaced with innocent white stars. She jerked her hand out of Tyler's and stumbled backwards, but when she looked down, she saw nobody. There was an immaculate garden in front of her and a fountain, but no people, no dance floor.

"Kaela?"

Lens one. The music filled her ears full-force and the light almost blinded her, but there was Tyler, looking at her expectantly. She opened her mouth to voice an excuse, but words failed her. "I was just joking," he said defensively. She wanted to say something, she truly did, but she just couldn't. "Look, if you're gonna-"

Lens two. Tyler disappeared along with the rest of the partygoers, and once again, she found herself staring over a garden, completely by herself. She looked around wildly, but nothing was the same. Behind her was a large, nineteenth-century styled manor with wrought-iron lanterns hanging by the open back door. It was very well maintained with a crisp coat of white paint and groomed bushes lining the walls, and as she turned back to look at the garden, she noticed that they were equally as perfect. The sounds of soft music and distant chatter drifted to her from inside the building, a party, most likely.

A tingling sensation running along the back of her neck indicated that there was magic at work, but she didn't have a clue as to what could trigger such an extreme illusion. She looked down at herself and was surprised: rather than see the simple white dress she always appeared in during dreams, she saw that she wore a pale green Victorian-style dress. Even in the darkness, she could tell that the dress had been worn quite often and was aging, but it still looked elegant nonetheless.

What was going on?

"Miss!"

All questions disappeared. She turned around slowly at the sound of her name being called. A dark-skinned boy in his early twenties donning a tattered server's uniform hung out the door, his breath coming in short pants. She smiled warmly and walked up to him.

"Yes?" she prompted, the voice coming out of her throat not her own.

"Mr. Salvatore… requests your presence… in… the study," he forced out between gasps. She nodded in understanding and lightly squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you kindly Samson, now go on and join your family for the night." He bowed quickly in respect and ran toward the road. She sighed softly and stepped into the house, making sure her back was straight and head held high: she was entering the fray, and there was no limit to the amount of gossip that would circulate were she caught on anything less than her best behavior.

Not that she cared enough to check if the coast was clear when she went up the main staircase. There wasn't anyone in the hallway to see, but she was certain people were paying attention. She and Mr. Stefan Salvatore had been found together on several occasions already, strolling in the marketplace, reading in the library, riding canoes in the lake… The signs were all there, and all anyone was waiting for was a proposal.

If they only knew.

As she'd expected, the study was empty and dark when she opened the door. She quietly closed it behind her and moved forward to the window to light a lantern. Shelves packed with books and figures lined the walls, and by the fireplace were several comfortable couches. Hanging on the wall by the window was a simple mirror, spotted with age. She looked at her reflection with curiosity, and as the lantern burst to life, she could see her face clearly.

Long chestnut hair framed her face, falling down to her shoulders in soft waves. Dramatic green eyes stared back at her framed with thick black lashes, contrasted by the curve of a delicate jaw line. Her skin was a light tone, but a handful of soft freckles dotted her nose, the result of playing in the sun with her many brothers as a child.

Many of the townspeople had gossiped about her from a young age, criticizing everything from her involvement with her mother's death to the large sums of money lost to her father's drinking problem to how she could never be a proper lady without a dowry. Only _he _knew what she was really like: only he knew just how much of a woman she was.

Oh, but if they only knew…

The door opened behind her, and in the reflection of the mirror, she could see his silhouette in the doorframe before he shut it. The sound of a lock clicking snapped across the room, and the anticipation lit up in her like a fire in the pit of her stomach. She bit back a smile and turned around, crossing her arms.

"You kept me waiting, lover," she informed him, jutting out her jaw defiantly. "If I weren't so kind, I wouldn't have waited as long as I have."

He looked at her uncertainly, but after a moment, stepped forward into the light. His light blue eyes ran over her slowly, taking in every detail as if he were seeing her for the first time. It felt like an eternity, but finally he spoke her name, like an angel calling her to heaven's gates.

"Elizabeth?"

She smiled slowly and stepped forward, placing a hand lovingly against his cheek.

"Damon."

* * *

Review please!


	8. M is for Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, didn't take as long this time! Are you all as excited as I am for the season premiere on Thursday? I'm going crazy, dying to find out what happens with everyone... **

**Anyway, here's the new chapter! Starts off in Mikaela's POV, but the chapter's mostly in Damon's perspective- let me know how you guys feel about it, okay? Zero Tyler here, just to let you all know beforehand. Next chapter, though, next chapter... I just want to clarify, by the way: Coach Tanner hasn't died, so Damon hasn't framed anyone for the kilings yet, ok? And Bonnie hasn't had any predictions. Alright? Alright. You guys know the drill, review and I'll write =] Things have been crazy over here in paradise (college+job+hurricanes+psycho exes=busy girl), but I'm trying my best.**

**Take care, and thanks so much for the reviews last chapter! They make writing worthwhile.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It was the first time she was able to sleep without nightmares.

Mikaela smiled and drifted between sleeping and waking, relishing the warmth she felt throughout her whole body. She'd never been a fan of Virginia's winters and had always had a crazy fantasy of moving to the tropics to raise a family of surfers. Yeah, like that'd ever happen… She couldn't risk her father waking up from the coma alone. The darkness of reality dragged her out of her lazy dreamland, and with an irritated sigh, she opened her eyes.

The first thing she realized was that she'd been in a trance. She knew this because the last thing that she remembered was that she was going to dance with Tyler, and she doubted she would've fallen asleep dancing with him. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd spontaneously "tranced", but it wasn't what she would call a common occurrence. Most of the time, she simply stared off into space and came back to herself once somebody touched her. They could last anywhere from a couple of seconds to five minutes, but she never knew how long she'd been out until afterwards.

The second thing she noticed was that she was in the Lockwood manor. Having spent a great amount of time there when she and Tyler were dating, she could distinguish the smell of the house in a millisecond. As she became more and more aware of her surroundings, she discovered that she was being held in a restricting embrace, and that caused confusion. Who would be hugging her? She tried to move away, softly at first, but it became apparent that he didn't want to let go. She felt rough kisses on her neck and ragged breathing in her ear, followed by teeth running along her skin. She stiffened: this was weird. She hadn't made out with anyone for months, but why did this feel familiar? The room was dim so she couldn't see much, but ignoring the goose-bumps rising up her arms, she twisted her head around to try and get a glimpse at his face.

She would have recognized that glossy black hair and scent anywhere.

Normally when waking from a trance, she tried to play things cool until she got her bearings and figured out an excuse to explain herself, but these were special circumstances. It didn't take long to come up with a rational plan of action.

"HEEEEELP!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. He should have sprung off of her like any healthy young man, but being the psychotic vampire he was, he cursed and clamped a hand over her mouth. She thrashed against him and continued to scream, praying that somebody, _anybody_, would save her from the sexual harasser.

"Shut up, dammit!" he hissed angrily. "I can explain!"

"Like hell you can!" she yelled, jerking her head away from his hand. "Let me go!"

"Calm down!"

"Fuck you!"

The door opened, and all hell broke loose.

First came a gasp, and then an exclamation of, "Are you kidding me?". Mikaela recognized it as Caroline's voice and froze, looking towards the door like a deer caught in front of headlights. In the back of her mind, she knew what this would look like to outside eyes: her and Damon, an alleged ex-couple, alone in a dark room in a tight embrace, clothes rumpled, her face red and sweaty, making enough noise for someone to have heard from the hallway…

Damn awkward this-isn't-what-it-really-looks-like situations.

Before she could open her mouth to make an excuse or even try to explain, Caroline turned around and run. Damon cursed and bolted to the door, almost making her fall over in his hurry. At the doorway, he looked over his shoulder.

"Don't leave this room," he ordered, pointing a warning finger at her. He didn't wait for a response and took off after the cheerleader at vampire speed. She simply stood there in shock. Why the hell had Damon been kissing her neck? Sure, when he'd fed on her before, he'd kissed her a couple of times, but it was meant for torment, not pleasure. _Not that him kissing me is pleasurable_, she mentally reminded herself. Her body betrayed her by sending a shiver down her back at the memory.

"No!" she snapped. "Stop it!"

Biology sucked: the human body didn't care about a guy's history or how many girls he'd slept with. It just wanted an attractive male for satisfaction, but as far as she'd known, the top contender had been Tyler. It was confusing enough to feel attracted to him even after he'd slept with that tramp; the last thing she needed was to be reacting to the advances of a vampire.

To distract herself, she decided to search for her purse. She **really **didn't want to return to the party and face whatever madness was going on there, especially if Damon or Tyler was involved. She turned to the desk, and a simple wooden box caught her eye.

There was an elegant folded label set next to the box with the name "Greene" etched onto it. Her father had always been very lenient with lending out the family heirlooms, but the downside to his generosity was that she hardly got a chance to see any for herself. Unable to resist the opportunity, she lifted the lid and took the artifact off the velvet cushion.

It was a jet-colored choker with a silver pendant in the middle. A black teardrop crystal dangled from the pendant, and judging by the way the light seemed to just bounce off of it, it was very solid. She scanned the desk for a description of the necklace, and when she didn't find one, she made an impulsive decision and put it on. It fit perfectly, the cool crystal settling just over where her collarbones met. She'd never been a thief, but considering her father wasn't around to handle family business matters, it was up to her.

Before she could over-think her action, she saw the small handbag peeking out from under the desk. She bent down to retrieve it, but something fell out as she was lifting it up. The vial of liquid Stefan had snuck into her purse rolled across the hardwood. She picked it up, looking it over with more care than she had before in the women's bathroom. It was definitely an extract of some sort, most likely from an herb or flower. Bonnie's grandmother, Silvia, had taught her a lot about different plant properties and how to identify them, so when she untwisted the cap and held it to her nose, she was able to recognize it.

Vervain.

It was in no way poisonous. Actually, when taken in the right dosage, it could even be beneficial to the user. When she'd seen the vial and Stefan's note before, she'd assumed it was a special mix specially designed for the occasion, but this was a very simple, somewhat concentrated extract. Why would Stefan ask her to drink vervain? She highly doubted he would be concerned enough with her health to hunt down vervain: it hadn't grown in Mystic Falls for almost 150 year-

She paused. Wasn't Damon almost 150?

No. It couldn't be.

She tightened her grip on the vial.

Could vervain be poisonous to vampires? Simple vervain, no stakes, garlic or sunlight? Why would Stefan think he could trust her with such powerful knowledge? As much as he wanted to get rid of his brother, it was risky to allow a human to know so much, especially when their weakness was so easy to attack. Then again, if her suspicions were correct, there was only one way to get the poison into Damon, and that was anything but easy.

* * *

If he'd thought Caroline had been annoying before, that was because he hadn't imagined what was going to happen.

For all of the natural advantages of being a vampire, he couldn't compete when she reached the bottom of the stairs. There was Elena walking down the hall when Caroline literally crashed into her, almost knocking her to the ground. Damon immediately drew back around a corner, not wanting to be known as the reason she was running in fear. He watched by the reflection of a mirror hanging on the wall and listened carefully to what was going on. Elena gripped Caroline's arms and helped straighten her up, but the cheerleader's scarf came loose, and the shit hit the fan.

He tightened his jaw as Elena's eyes widened and she pulled Caroline to the side, speaking to her in hushed tones. Caroline busied herself with fixing her scarf and waving away Elena's concern just as he'd compelled her to do, but Elena was stubborn and demanded an explanation. He heard his name several times, at which point Caroline switched gears and spat out the story, "exactly as it happened".

According to Caroline, she'd gone upstairs to look for a box the Lockwoods had sent her to get, but when she'd opened the door to the study, she'd found Damon and Mikaela about to have sex on the couch. The story had absolutely nothing to do with the bite marks, but it was enough to distract Elena for a couple of seconds.

It was also enough time for him to come up with a plan.

The sound of footsteps came down the stairs, and judging by the silence the person ensued on the other three girls, it had to be Mikaela. Why had he even hoped she'd listen to him and stay upstairs? She truly didn't know how to look out for herself- he'd been doing her a favor, ordering her out of harm's way! To top it all off, she hadn't even heard his side of the story, so he was soon to be known as the town sexual harasser.

Perfect. Just perfect. This was why he didn't have friends.

"Listen, Caroline," Mikaela began, "I promise you, that wasn't what it-"

"Like hell it wasn't," Caroline snapped angrily. "I don't want to hear your excuses." Damon wanted to roll his eyes: karma was a bitch.

Mikaela took a deep breath and walked closer to them. "I know Damon told you guys that we used to be together, but that's not really what happened, okay? He-"

That was the point that he decided to make his entrance. "Let's not make a scene, Mikaela," he said condescendingly, coming up behind her and settling an arm around her shoulders. She immediately stiffened, and he couldn't help but marvel at the 180 change she'd made in less than five minutes. "Caroline, let's talk this out like adults, why don't we?"

"Screw-" He narrowed his eyes at her and she swallowed the insult.

Suddenly Mikaela was pulled away from him. He turned on Elena, and was surprised by the fury in her eyes. "There's nothing to talk about," she growled angrily. "Stay away from them." He looked between the other two girls, from Caroline's confusion to Mikaela's even, unreadable expression. He was outnumbered, but that was fine: he'd get Caroline later, and Mikaela…

Without saying a word, he turned around and walked away.

Those girls were going to drive the immortality right out of him. He went down the hall and, when nobody was looking, did a run around the house back to the front door. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall in the shadow of a pillar to wait and listen.

Eventually the party had to end, and when that happened and she walked out the front door, he'd get her. Whether it be Caroline or Mikaela first didn't matter: he'd get one there at the Lockwood manor and the other on her way home. If he had time, he'd make the call to the police station about the mountain lion, and he'd let the animal take the blame for the attacks. There was always tomorrow.

Caroline, he couldn't wait to get rid of. Sure, she had her perks (easy to compel and even easier to screw), but she was annoying as all living hell. Mikaela, on the other hand... For all her bad attitude and unwillingness to cooperate, she was interesting and had a fire to her. There was that, and then there was the incident that happened up in the study, which left him with many questions.

"Elena, it's okay, really! Stay here, enjoy the party, calm down Caroline—you know, the usual." Mikaela's voice drifted to him from the front hall twenty minutes later. Her tone was much lighter than before, which he found strange. She, of all people, should have known he'd be waiting for her. "I'm just gonna head to the Grill real fast for a bite to eat and then I'm going home."

"How? Jenna says you came here with Damon," Elena reminded her. They hadn't stepped out onto the porch yet, so even if Damon could hear the two girls, he couldn't be sure if there was anyone else with them.

"I left my motorcycle here a couple of weeks ago and I told Mayor Lockwood I'd pick it up tonight. Things worked out nicely, didn't they?" she said, laughing at the end. "Geez, this had to be the worst Founder's Ball so far, huh?"

He stayed still until he saw her move out into the open. Her back was to him and she was talking to Elena, a smile on her face. He could tell at a glance that the smile was fake, and he wondered if anyone else could tell. "You're telling me. I can't believe that Damon would do something like that. If I'd known before-"

"Caroline's gonna need everyone's support now," Mikaela said, cutting her off before she could go into details. "That whole sex-biting fetish thing can really mess with your head, especially when it's not your thing."

"Did he-?"

"No, he didn't. We never went that far."

There was a silence as both girls looked away from each other, neither knowing what to say. As he'd expected, Mikaela was the one to take a deep breath and break it. "Look, I know things have been weird between us all, but I do love you guys." Her voice was calm and her face even, a contrast to the weight the words should have held. "It's just hard to say it lately, what with all that's happened the last couple of months. I know you're doing better now that Stefan's here, but I'm..."

"You're still waiting."

Mikaela didn't say anything. He heard a sigh and then she adjusted a backpack he couldn't remember her bringing to the party. "Thanks again for reminding me about the clothes I left here. It'd have sucked to drive a motorcycle in a dress."

"Anytime," Elena answered, not acknowledging that Mikaela had basically ignored her last comment. "Call me when you get home."

"I will. 'Night."

And with that, the hunt began.

He watched from a safe distance as she walked to the parking garage. She felt along the top of the doorframe until she found the spare key, then unlocked it and stepped inside. It would have been the perfect opportunity to strike, but she had practically set herself on a silver platter—where was the fun in that? He could make this go on all night long. With that in mind, he ran to his car and jumped into the driver's seat to wait.

Only a minute or two later, he heard a motor roar to life and saw a single headlight approach the open door. It was strange to see her on a motorcycle, but when she dismounted and he got a better look at it, he could have laughed. It was a red and silver Harley Davidson with a skull set above the headlight, obviously a man-bike. She closed the garage door and put the key back, then jumped on the bike and drove off.

He waited maybe five seconds before starting his car and taking off after her.

She was a good liar. They reached town, and rather than head toward the Mystic Grill like she'd said she would, she drove toward the residential area, and then went farther. They reached a commercial bridge that passed over a large river, and right at the crest of it, she pulled over. He turned off the headlights and cruised to a stop at the edge of the bridge, leaving the car concealed behind a clump of trees. He moved closer, and hidden in the shadows, he watched her.

She leaned against the rail and stared down at the water. She wore a deep violet long-sleeve and a leather jacket with a thick hood. Her dark jeans ended just above a pair of black ankle boots, and as he watched, she unraveled a scarf from around her neck. With a blank look on her face, she held her hand out and let the wind sweep it away. Once it hit the water with a soft splash, she closed her eyes, heaved a sigh, and turned to look in his direction.

He stepped out into the moonlight, but there was really no point. She could sense him and had known he'd been there all along. Her expression didn't change and she stood as straight as she always did, even when he closed the distance at vampire speed. He stopped only inches away and looked down at her, waiting for a reaction.

"Do you know this bridge?" she asked. It was a simple question. There was no hitch in her voice, no glint of fear in her eyes, not even expectancy for an answer. She turned away from him and went back to staring over the edge. "This was where I died for the first time."

He couldn't imagine why she was telling him that, but he stayed quiet and listened. "I was helping Uncle Zack clean the manor for a couple of bucks to buy a camera. We were having a blast, but then I had a vision," she said, a shadow crossing her eyes. "I saw Elena's car go off this bridge and started to have a panic attack. Uncle Zack called my father and he went to pick me up, but when we crossed over here on the way home, one of the tires exploded.

"The car went off the edge. It'd been raining for a couple of days, so the river was almost flooding over and the water was wild. Most of the time everything goes quiet when you're under, but there was too much noise for me to think. My father took his seatbelt off and we forced my window open, but the river pulled him out in a way that he crashed his head on the way out. He was unconscious and got washed up almost half a mile downstream. My seatbelt jammed.

"That EMT, Benji, got me out of the car around five in the morning. Some cops found my father and pulled him out, but the car ended up very far down the river. I woke up a couple of days later in intensive care. That's how my father got into the coma, and ever since then, the psychic visions and nightmares got worse." She stopped and reached up to touch a choker she had on her neck. He hadn't noticed it before, but he felt like he'd seen it somewhere. "Look, I want you to stop what you're doing to Caroline."

It took him a couple of seconds to catch onto the change of subject, but when he did, he barely held back a smirk. "Why should I?" he tested. She didn't react to the tone of his voice and didn't even look at him.

"You need me more than you need her," she stated matter-of-factly. "It must be tiring keeping track of two girls, one to feed on and the other to watch. I can be both."

She couldn't be serious.

"You stop feeding on Caroline, and you can feed on me," she said flatly. "You want to figure out this whole Elizabeth Knight thing, and if I'm not mistaken, you're curious about Katherine, too. I'm the only one that can help, so having me closer will only help. It's a fair deal."

He didn't say anything. He'd expected Elena to tell him to stay away from Caroline and he'd received countless warnings from Stefan, but hadn't thought Mikaela would try to make a deal. It was much too... what was the word...?

Oh, right. Heroic. And stupid.

She clenched her fists and turned around, jaw set and eyes narrowed. "Why don't you say anything?" she snapped angrily. "You stalk me, threaten me, even kiss me when I can't fight you off, and now I offer to make all of this so damn easy for you, and—!"

"You kissed me."

Her eyes widened and her face blanched. A slap wouldn't have been nearly as effective, so he decided to continue. "I already know who Elizabeth Knight is, and you're pretty much useless when it comes to Katherine. So, no, I don't accept your offer."

This time she switched right back into angry Mikaela. "Why can't you leave Caroline alone?" she snapped. "Sure, she's annoying and gets jealous, but she's a good girl. All you're gonna do is kill her eventually, right?"

"That's right," he agreed.

"Then why don't you just kill me?" she yelled.

That was too damn good of an invitation for him to stand up.

He moved forward. At first she stood her ground, but when his eyes darkened and his fangs grew, her resolved weakened and she stepped back. As he'd anticipated, when her back hit the rail, she froze and stared up at him. He closed the space between them and braced his hands on the rail, leaving her no way to run. The wind blew her hair back over her shoulders, exposing that perfect neck of hers.

Standing so close, he took advantage of the moment to really look at her. Her eyes were brown, but in the moonlight, he could see that they had a thin black circle around them, like an inverted eclipse. She had a strong face and soft lips that were perfect for kissing (as he'd learned), but were often lowered in a frown. The only thing that could even be taken into consideration as a flaw would be the scars that he'd given her, but to him, it only made his stomach growl with hunger.

She was beautiful, possibly even more so than Elena. As a man it was easy to recognize that, but as someone with more years of experience than most, he could also see that she was damaged, not as perfect as her exterior made her seem. He bared his fangs to gauge her reaction, but there was none. She just stared evenly at him, her jaw set tight and her breathing even, waiting for him to do whatever he planned to do. Then, she did something far too strange: she reached up and pulled off her necklace, leaving herself completely exposed.

He'd set out to kill her tonight: feed, possibly get some carnal satisfaction, make her one less teenager to worry about. Suddenly, he didn't want to. She had no sense of self-preservation, and that went against nature. Maybe he had to show her just what it meant to face death. Again.

With a snarl, he gripped her hair tightly and dove down on her neck.

Most people screamed. She stiffened and her hands flew up to his shoulders, but she didn't even cry out. Her blood poured into his mouth freely, the irresistible taste very nearly driving him into a frenzy. His body begged for more, but he held back: there was more to this than just satisfaction. He heard her let out a pained gasp as he made it a point to bite down harder, but she only dug her nails into his jacket and gritted her teeth, waiting for the worst to pass. At some point, instinct would overrule whatever reasoning made her suicidal, and he'd have accomplished what he'd set out to do. Someone who wasn't afraid of dying was of no use to him.

Just as he thought he'd won, he felt his throat clench up and he choked. He recognized the taste on his tongue then, the sugar-sweet venom, vervain, laced with her blood. Caught off-guard, he fell to the ground in a fit of coughing and wheezing. It was like the very life was being drained out of him, and as he tried to get to his feet again, he found he could hardly lift his arms, much less stand up.

Mikaela- she'd tricked him! She'd distracted him with the phony heart-felt story and used the night's incident to her advantage. She had to remember what happened in the study, it was impossible that she'd simply happened to trance and conveniently forget everything. When he'd chased after Caroline she must have downed some vervain, because he was sure all he'd tasted on her lips when they'd kissed had been white wine.

He'd been manipulated… by a teenager? He looked up at her murderously and she stumbled back, eyes filled with panic. Her heart was racing and blood rushed from the wound and seeped into her shirt, but she didn't even try to stop the bleeding. When she snapped out of her horrified daze, she made to run to the motorcycle, then stopped.

She bent down next to him then, her face concealed by a curtain of hair as she hurriedly shrugged off her jacket. She yanked a white handkerchief out of the jacket pocket and held it firmly to her neck to stop the bleeding, then turned to him. "What's wrong?" she demanded urgently, not daring to touch him. He didn't push himself to answer: the vervain was spreading through his system and pulling him into unconsciousness. "Damon, what happened!"

"Like you don't know," he growled. "Vervain."

"Vervain?" she repeated. He didn't bother to say anything in response.

Then, to his confusion, she tossed the handkerchief to the side and gripped both of his arms. With a grunt, she lifted him up and started dragging him towards the motorcycle. He tried to fight her off despite how weak he was, but a pair of headlights began to approach and she cursed. The car pulled over and two people stepped out. His vision began to fail him then, so all he saw were blotches of color.

"What happened?" Stefan's voice came somewhere from his right, and he felt him grip his face for examination.

"I don't know!" Mikaela said, her voice expressing confusion. "He bit me, and this happened!"

Damon felt the dark cloud of unconsciousness start to take over, but he heard snatches of her voice and-surprisingly- his nephew, Zack's, as he was slipping away.

"He said vervain, but… didn't drink… gave it… Caroline…more than I did…" Mikaela tried to explain, the words coming out too quickly for him to catch. "How did I…?"

"I put some… fifty dollars to… wine glass, just in case," Zack answered, his words slurring in Damon's mind. He tried to put two and two together, but he was too far gone to figure anything out. He should have fallen into blackness, but for some reason or another, he went back to what happened in the study, maybe only an hour or so ago…

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Explanations next chapter along with some Tyler and action! What kind of action? Review and find out ;) **

**Take care and stay safe, readers!**


	9. These Words and Lips Are Not My Own

**Author's Note:**

**I made this one extra-long in apology... Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed/favorited/alerted/all of the above-ed! It's just been one thing after another over here, my family might be losing its business, school and work take up most of my time, and really, I don't have much free time anymore, he he... I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, the rest of the story is outlined, so it should be coming out a bit quicker from here on out. Hey, how many of you guys bought the DVD's for Vampire Diaries? Lemme know!**

**Take care, guys!**

* * *

**Three Days Later:**

It'd been several months since she'd set foot in the Salvatore boarding house, and there she was, waking up in her old room like she was thirteen again. Life could be funny sometimes.

Mikaela stared up at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, delaying the inevitable. She'd skipped out on a couple days of school already, and even if she knew it was time to get back to the real world, she found that she really didn't want to. The bite mark on her neck had almost healed over, a contrast to her mental recovery from the events at the Founder's Ball.

She could've died, for real. Only so many miracles could happen to a single person. She knew that, but that realization wasn't what was keeping her in bed. It was the fact that she _had_ known that and _still_ put herself in the line of gunfire, so to speak. Sure, Stefan had given her vervain, but she hadn't drunk it. She'd given it to Caroline. If it hadn't been for Zack spiking the white wine she'd drunk, she'd be dead. Why would she have done something as stupid as to lead a seriously pissed off vampire to a secluded place?

There was only one real answer.

**That** was why she didn't want to return to reality.

The past three days, Mikaela, Stefan and Zack had been keeping guard of the boarding house, making sure nobody came in, nobody asked questions, and nobody got out. Stefan had taken Damon's ring and hidden it the very night he'd trapped his brother, but from the moment he got back, he'd taken it upon himself to make sure she knew what she needed to stay safe.

One: it was the brothers' rings that allowed them to go out in the sunlight. Without them, they'd be supernatural barbecue.

Two: a vampire had to be clearly invited into a residence by a living, breathing resident in order to enter.

Three: to turn a human into a vampire, the human had to ingest vampire blood, die with the blood in his/her system, and then feed on a human within twenty-four hours.

Four: vervain weakens vampires, but it also helps humans resist compulsion. Zack grew vervain in the basement, and that was where Stefan had gotten the extract from.

In exchange for the information, Mikaela told him about the deals she and Damon had made: she had to keep their vampirism a secret, tell him of her dreams and anything she knew about Elizabeth Knight or Katherine, and he wouldn't kill her or her father. Stefan didn't have a clue who Elizabeth Knight was either, which surprised her: Mystic Falls had been even smaller in the nineteenth century, so everybody knew everybody. He couldn't figure out why Damon was interested in Elizabeth, but then Mikaela told him about the dream she'd had with her, the two brothers, and Katherine Pierce.

Figuring there was no point in keeping their history from her any longer, Stefan had spilled the beans about Katherine: she had been both of the brothers' lover, and a vampire. Apparently, she'd compelled and manipulated the two to believe they were in love with her, up until the Founder's Council found out about the vampires and had them all burned in Fell's Church. Stefan and Damon, some way or another, had been changed into vampires, but hadn't burned with them. She didn't press for details: it was a lot of information to ingest.

A knock came at her door.

"Come in," she called. With a tired sigh, she sat up in bed and straightened her tank top. Zack cracked open the door cautiously, poking his head through to make sure it was safe to enter. She smiled warmly: he'd always been careful about giving her the space she needed as a young lady. "I'm decent, Uncle Zack," she joked. "Is everything alright?"

"Damon's awake," he said. She felt her heart skip a beat, but she forced it to calm down: he was still poisoned with vervain, and he was starving down there in the basement, too weak to get out. "Stefan said to stay away, so you shouldn't go down there anymore." She nodded: he was right.

While Damon had been unconscious, she'd gone down to his prison exactly three times, each time against both Stefan's and Zack's orders. She didn't think Zack had been aware of it, but then again, she should've known better. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. "Also, you're late."

"Did Stefan leave already?" she asked, throwing back the covers and climbing out of her bed.

"No, he's waiting in the parlor," Zack answered, stepping towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the door knob and looked back at her again, a serious shadow covering his eyes. "This is Damon we're talking about here." She'd been about to stand up, but when he said that, she found that she couldn't anymore. "These past couple of days have been easy, but he's taken an interest in you. Be careful."

She swallowed and pushed back her hair, closing her eyes. He was right, as always: the real challenge wasn't standing outside Damon's cellar door, forcing herself to look at him and not panic. The challenge was going on with life without letting Damon rule it.

Yeah, right… Like he'd let _that _happen.

* * *

High school wasn't about the diploma: it was about the gossip.

Mikaela parked her car and climbed out with her backpack already over her shoulder. Her entrance alone got a couple of glances, but it was when her passenger, Stefan, stepped onto the pavement that the staring and whispering truly began. She should've been used to the attention after being Tyler's girlfriend freshman year, but she wasn't. She doubted she ever would be.

Then again, what else was she supposed to expect? Elena and Stefan had gotten into a fight at the Founder's Ball, and now he showed up at school with Mikaela after the two of them had disappeared for three days. To top it off, Caroline had spread the rumor about Mikaela and Damon almost having sex in the Lockwood manor- her ex-boyfriend's house. No matter how she looked at it, some way or another, there was going to be reason for gossip. She didn't care much for what her fellow students thought of her private life, but the negative energy being sent in her direction was going to cause a major headache.

She might as well deal with it. With a deep breath to brace herself, she made her way towards the school. She could sense Stefan walking next to her, but his presence provided little to no comfort. "It'll be old news by next week," he said quietly, leaning close enough that she could hear him, but not so close that it appeared to be intimate. "It's Friday. They'll forget over the weekend."

"They're not the ones I'm worried about," she muttered, knowing he could hear her perfectly well. "It's Caroline, Elena, Bonnie, Tyler…"

He didn't say anything, but she didn't get upset. His silence told her all that she needed to know: there was nothing he could say that would make it better. It was just the way they had to live. It didn't make her feel any better about the situation, but at least she knew she wasn't alone in the suffering. If it had been anyone else, she would have squeezed his arm or nudged him with her elbow as if to say "thank you", but she didn't dare with so many people watching and so many implications being made about her. Life sucked that way. It also sucked in that the first person she ran into was Caroline in the hallway.

"Good morning, boyfriend-stealer," she greeted with mock cheeriness, planting herself directly in front of the two so there was no way to escape without causing a scene. Well, an even bigger scene: everyone within a fifteen-foot radius had tuned in to the exchange, some covering up the fact with open locker doors and other genius tactics, while the rest blatantly stared.

Stefan spotted Elena with a barely concealed look of betrayal and excused himself to go after her. It made sense Elena would be upset: either one of them, Mikaela or Stefan, could have clued her in to what was going on. Instead, they'd both shut her out. Her imagination must have been going wild.

Either way, Mikaela was on her own, as always. "I see you got the other brother, too. Good for you."

"Come off it, Caroline," Mikaela warned, her voice barely concealing her irritation. "You don't want to do this."

"Don't want to do what?" she asked innocently, her eyes widening to further the stupid-blonde act. "I'm just congratulating you! It's quite an accomplishment to backstab two of your oldest friends in less than a week. First you steal my boyfriend, and then you run off with Elena's. Good job."

Mikaela gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. "I didn't steal anyone," she forced quietly, still trying not to attract any more attention. She had known Caroline would want to confront her, and already had a story-well, a lie-prepared. "Damon ambushed me while I was looking for something in the study, and I did not 'run off with Elena's boyfriend'. Stefan went with me to help get a restraining order on Damon."

"Oh, really?" she said doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. Mikaela narrowed her eyes.

"Yeah, really."

A peace keeper would have ignored the bite of betrayal and left the fight at that.

A wise person would have recognized that she was the victim and had no way of knowing she'd risked her life for her.

If she had been maybe a little bit more patient, she would have walked away. But she didn't feel like any of those things, so she didn't. "But that's not the real question, is it?" she mused aloud. If Caroline wanted to believe she was a conniving mistress, Mikaela wouldn't disappoint. "The real question is why he went looking for me when he had you." With that, she made to go around the cheerleader, then paused to whisper something nobody else could hear. "Oh, and don't go thinking you're the only one Damon's _hurt._ He's forced me to wear a scarf more than once, too."

The silence had to be one of the loudest she'd ever heard. Caroline stared at her, eyes wide and face sickly pale. Surprised the girl didn't try to slap her, Mikaela raised her head up high and walked to her first period class, ignoring the whispers. She was on a stage and had to keep a straight face in place, no matter what.

She just wished it wasn't so easy for her to pretend not to care.

* * *

Stefan had said he was going to meet Elena somewhere after school, so Mikaela drove to the boarding house by herself after seventh period. The day had incredibly sucked, but she hadn't expected anything less. Nobody had spoken to her, and during her lunch period she'd grabbed her food and gone out to the track. It'd been months since she'd eaten alone out there, and doing so brought back memories of her first days back to school after the accident. It had felt like everyone was watching and waiting for her to explode, for any indication that she was human. She hadn't given them the satisfaction of knowing just how much it all hurt.

Maybe that had been when it all started: the accident. Her mother had been going on many business trips, traveling the world, saving lives: any doctor's fantasy. Doing so left Mikaela and her father on their own. Her father had several jobs: he was a freelance photographer, he repaired computers on the side, and during the week, he worked as a mechanic at an old college friend's shop in town. Nobody could doubt that he was a hard worker. Somehow, though, he'd always made time for his daughter. If he couldn't spend much quality time with her during the week, he'd take her to a photo shoot during the weekend, or they'd go hiking on the local trails, or they'd drive up to the Salvatore boarding house and spend the weekend with Uncle Zack.

It was strange: after only three days of staying there, she'd already gotten used to the route again. When she was thirteen and social services was investigating the cause of the fire that consumed her home, she'd lived with Uncle Zack at the boarding house. The school bus would drop her off down the road every day, and she would walk the long distance by herself. Zack would always be waiting there with lunch, and they would spend the rest of the afternoon working on restoring the boarding house to its original splendor. The months she'd lived there had been tough, but driving her car up the driveway had to be the closest feeling to coming home that she'd felt since the accident.

Home wasn't the same without her father's warm embrace waiting for her. Her mother had stopped being a mother after the fire, so any semblance of family was gone. Life was lonely without a family. Actually, it didn't even feel worth it. Tightly gripping the steering wheel, Mikaela accepted the thought. She'd wanted to die the other night. She'd always thought only weak, whiny people went through depression, but it could really happen to anybody.

She just wouldn't let it happen anymore to her. She parked in front of the house and got out, making it a point to leave all of her stuff in the passenger seat. The last thing on her mind was homework, so she didn't even bother to pretend she cared about getting it done before the weekend started. It was Friday, and the week had been long: she'd earned a day off.

"Uncle Zack, I'm home!" she called into the house. She dropped her keys on a small table by the door and wandered into the foyer. "Uncle Zack!" Getting no answer, she poked her head into the parlor. She smiled when she saw that he'd fallen asleep with several piles of books in front of him. Relief swept over her, and she realized that, for a moment, she'd actually feared Damon had gotten out.

Speaking of the devil himself…

Checking that the coast was clear, Mikaela slipped past the door to the basement and climbed down the stairs. Zack had said that Damon was awake. If that was true, she needed to ask him a question before anyone could stop her, and before she could come up with a reason not to ask him. Feeling her heart rate pick up, she took a deep breath as she approached the door with the small barred window.

For a moment she didn't move. The past couple of days had been Damon-free: no taunting, no life threats, no surprises. Did she truly want an answer so badly that she'd disturb the rare peace she'd found? Did she have a death wish again?

"Don't tell me… you're still suicidal." Damon's voice came out like a wheeze, but she would have recognized his voice anywhere. She sighed: too late to turn back now.

"No, I'm not," she answered, leaning against the wall opposite the door. Through the small window, all she could see was the vervain and something that looked like a shoe, but she couldn't be certain without getting closer, which she didn't plan on doing. She couldn't help but find it strange that, of all people, Damon was the one who'd figured out her problem.

"Really? I couldn't… tell. Thought you were here for round three."

She rolled her eyes. "You're poisoned and starving, Damon. Don't start trying to threaten me now."

"Force… of habit."

Maybe it was the deluded sense of security, or the fact that the school day had sucked, or just that she was plain old crazy, but she almost smiled at that. It was difficult to remember him as a threat when he was the one who'd shocked her out of the depression. She didn't let herself get distracted, though, and went straight to the point. "What happened at the Founder's Ball, Damon? You said that I kissed you."

"And it's exactly what it sounds like." He grunted at the end, and in the small window, she could see him dragging his body to the farther wall so they could see each other. "Is it such a… surprise?"

"Well, yeah," she answered, shrugging a shoulder. "I'd never kiss you, which means it was a lie."

"So what do you think… happened?"

"I don't know what happens when I trance. You tell me."

"You become very… friendly."

"Oh, cut the bullshit. We're on opposite ends of the food chain."

"Speaking of food…"

In a blink he was at the door, arm limply hanging out from between the bars. She couldn't stop herself from jumping at the sudden movement, but she forced herself to remember that he couldn't get past the door without outside help. He chuckled weakly and held his hand out. "Give a guy a drink? I'd settle for Thumper at this point."

She crossed her arms and edged a couple of inches away, just out of reach. "Give me an explanation," she demanded. "I don't remember anything that happened, and you're the only one who can tell me."

"Open the door, and we can have a nice, long chat about how you tried to jump me."

"Tell me what happened."

"Preferably after you give me something to drink."

"Fuck you."

"You already tried."

She grit her teeth: this was useless. He wasn't going to tell her anything about the Founder's Ball, so she might as well ask him her other question. "Who is Elizabeth Knight? You said you'd figured it out."

He groaned tiredly and dropped his head against the door. "You don't give up, do you?" he muttered. "Get me my ring, and I'll tell you everything."

"Zack, Mikaela!" Stefan's voice carried from somewhere in the house, signaling his arrival. Mikaela hesitated. Damon smirked before sliding to the ground by the door.

"See you tonight…"

Mikaela ran up the stairs before he could say anything else. Stefan's voice carried to her from the foyer, so she put the door back in the same position it had been before and ran over to meet him. She would have given anything to pry some more information out of him, but if Stefan caught her down in the basement, she was sure he'd kick her out of the house. It was crazy that she'd actually want to be around the vampire that had killed her, but then again, he was the only one who could explain the mystery behind her ancestor-and what happened at the Founder's Ball.

Stefan had a tired look on his face, but when he took in Mikaela's appearance, she saw alarm cross his eyes. "Did Damon-?"

"No, he's still locked up," she assured him quickly, holding up her hands as if to calm him. "How'd things go with Elena?"

The change in subject worked. He frowned and adjusted his backpack as if to stall for time. "She… Wants answers I can't give her," he said carefully, not meeting her eyes. "I don't want to keep any more secrets, but-"

"It's to protect her," she finished for him. "It's a lose-lose situation."

"You sound like you know about that sort of thing."

The comment caught her by surprise. "I might," she said noncommittally, but searched the room with her eyes for any excuse to make a break for it. The grandfather clock saved her. "Well, look at the time. I've got someplace to be." And with that, she grabbed a set of keys off the table by the door and walked out of the house.

Mikaela got into her car without knowing where she was going and ended up at the Mystic Grill. On some conscious level, she should have known that subconsciously this was where she'd want to be: it was Friday, and on Fridays her father would take her out to get a burger after school. She hadn't really noticed that she ended up doing exactly that almost every Friday after he went into the coma, but now that she did, she walked into the Grill braced for emotional battle.

When she opened the door, everything was as it always was. She stood in the doorway for a moment, preparing herself for the tears. None came. A small knot formed in her throat, but that was as bad as it got. With an air of caution, she fully entered the building and took a seat at a booth. Still no suicidal thoughts. She flipped through the dessert menu on the table and noticed a ketchup stain in the middle of the milkshake page. She'd dirtied that very menu the last time she'd gone there with her father, and he'd laughed without shame at her clumsiness.

Rather than feel grief, she felt a warm fondness at the memory. Weren't people in depression supposed to feel sad about everything? Shaking her head, she put the menu back and smiled. She'd take any happiness she could get.

"Good afternoon, what can I-?"

She froze just as the waitress choked on her words. She should've known something would happen if she went there. Without bothering to hide an ounce of coldness from her eyes, Mikaela looked up into the face of a very uncomfortable Vicki Donovan. "You can get me another waitress," she said flatly. For a moment Vicki didn't move.

"Look, I'm just trying to do my job," she finally reasoned, holding up her hands as if to gesture there was nothing she could do.

"Then do your job and tell the manager I want somebody else to attend me," Mikaela shot back in an equally calm voice. It looked like Vicki would argue, but then someone called her over, and she didn't have a choice but to walk away. Mikaela groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose: it had taken everything in her not to jump on the girl and beat her senseless.

Again, that is.

"I take it you two don't get along."

She'd only heard his voice on one occasion, and yet she recognized Benji immediately. The tan, green-eyed EMT walked up to the booth with a warm smile on his face and nodded at the seat across from her. "May I? I'm not exactly the eating-alone type."

"Of course!" she said quickly. He took a seat and dropped a backpack next to him, nodding in thanks. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to see the mountain lion and grab a bite to eat," he answered. "It wasn't that big, actually." At her blank expression, he elaborated. "You know, the thing that's been killing people? They caught it yesterday."

"Oh!" She realized he was talking about the mountain lion Stefan had framed for Damon's attacks. "Really? I heard nobody was allowed to see it."

He got a mischievous glint in his eye. "I have my ways."

"Illegal?"

"Nah, I took Social Studies with the guy putting it to sleep," he admitted. "He snuck me in once everyone left."

"Sounds like someone has connections," she mused.

"You'll see: college is all about networking," he explained, leaning back casually. "You never know if that nerd in your Algebra class is gonna be your boss someday, so you might as well start making nice early on." He had a lazy, humorous air about him, and it was quite relaxing. Even his simple white t-shirt and long jeans made her want to lie in a hammock and sleep the day away. He was someone with a presence, and she liked that.

"So, like I was saying before," he continued, "I'm guessing you and Miss Drug-Using Waitress had a falling out." She sighed: it would have been too nice if he'd ignored an obviously sore subject.

"Drug-Using?" she repeated. It was public knowledge, but he wasn't exactly a local, so it surprised her that he'd know. He gave her a look that said, "Come _on!_"

"I'm an EMT. I know a druggie when I see one," he said, as if it was completely obvious. "What happened?"

"She slept with my boyfriend sophomore year so I kicked her ass," she answered in an equally casual tone, mirroring his shrug from a minute before. "The official report says we fell down a ridge in the graveyard."

He raised his eyebrows. "You beat her up in a graveyard?"

"She was high, so it was an unfair fight, I'll admit. I was just pissed off. She doesn't remember much, though, and in the end they're still sleeping together and he's still an asshole. Lesson learned from that: violence is not the answer."

The other waiter on duty walked up to their booth with a notepad in hand. "You guys ready to order?" he asked politely.

"Coke and the Mystic Burger," Mikaela said after only a moment's hesitation.

"What she said," Benji said without a second of thought. Before the waiter could walk away, Benji added, "Oh, and an order of the onion rings to start us off." At Mikaela's questioning look, he grinned. "You haven't lived until you've tried their onion rings."

"I thought you weren't from around here," she pointed out once the waiter was out of earshot.

"And I thought you were a loving girl who wouldn't hurt a fly," he shot back teasingly. She snorted, a very un-ladylike action.

"Being loving is overrated," she stated. "People take advantage. I'd rather be strong."

"You can be both," he pointed out. "Love isn't supposed to make you weak."

"From my personal experience, when you give someone the power to hurt you, they do," she said. "It's not love I don't trust, it's people." Benji didn't say anything, and then the waiter came with their drinks. She thanked him and swirled the ice around in her glass. A comfortable silence ensued, but she didn't feel the need to break it. She pondered about the man sitting across from her and tried to get a feel of him from his aura. All she got was warmth and comfort.

"We trust the wrong people sometimes." She stopped playing with the ice cubes to listen. "Doesn't mean we're wrong to trust, it just means we aren't perfect and neither are they."

"Who was she?" she asked. He cringed, caught red-handed.

"You were close," he admitted, "but I wasn't the one wronged. It was my sister." Mikaela sensed a story coming up, and on cue, the waiter brought them a basket of onion rings. Benji bit down on one, steam billowing out once he broke away a piece. The onion-y aroma filled the air, and he motioned for her to try one. "Come on, they're the best!"

"What happened to her?" she pressed, trying her hardest not to sound like an overly-eager little girl. Judging by his smirk, she didn't entirely succeed.

"Eat," he ordered, but he was agreeing, so she complied. "It's really not that long of a story. She fell in love with a guy we grew up with, but when push came to shove, he chose someone he thought had less baggage."

"Baggage?"

"It was a small town with old-fashioned people," he explained, rolling his eyes. "A lot of them were racist, too, and we were half African-American. She had a kid when she was young, so nobody approved of anything she did. He was a white eligible bachelor in the military with the world laid out in front of him. He proposed in secret, but the day before they were gonna elope, he met somebody else." Mikaela flinched: she couldn't even begin to imagine the betrayal his sister must have felt. "Anyways, the new girl turned out to be worse than a woman with a kid, but by the time he could turn back, it was too late. I suppose it's like people say: everything happens for a reason."

Unlike everything else he'd said, that last statement sounded very insincere. Mikaela furrowed her brows and stuck an onion ring in her mouth, making an audible crunch as she began to chew. She almost moaned as the flavor exploded in her mouth. He was right: she hadn't known the meaning of life until she'd eaten one of those onion rings. Even the incredible taste of the onion rings, however, didn't distract her from an itching feeling in the back of her mind.

"You're leaving something out," she said, carefully watching him. He smiled softly, a sad smile that broke her heart.

"Yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?" he said, managing to avoid looking at her by pulling another onion ring out of the basket. "She killed herself on our twenty-third birthday." It was very much like ice water being poured down her spine. She stared at him, and to her shock, he actually laughed. "It never fails!"

"You lied?" she exclaimed indignantly. He waved his hands as if to say "no" while he fought to keep a straight face.

"No, no, it actually happened," he assured her-which, strangely enough, didn't make it much better. "I'm laughing because you got the same expression your mom got when I told her the story."

"You know my mom?" she asked, even more shocked by this news than by the tragic end of his sister's story. He nodded.

"Yup, we go way back. You could say we almost grew up together," he answered. "I'm sure she's never mentioned me, and with good reason."

"Why?"

"She has more important things to do than tell her seventeen-year-old daughter about the guy that shared a jail cell with her for a night." Before Mikaela could demand more details, the waiter brought them their food. "Ah, grease on a bun! Thank you."

"Mom got arrested?" she repeated, unable to believe what she was hearing. He had his burger halfway to his mouth, so he simply grunted a noncommittal response so he could eat. "What for?" He took a monstrous bite and began to chew. She sighed and got started on her own food, taking the hint. "Fine, I get it. Top-secret stuff, huh?"

"You got it, kiddo. That, and I'm starving."

After a couple of minutes of quiet eating, she couldn't hold back the questions anymore. "So, how old are you?" she asked. He'd almost finished with his food, and she'd eaten all she could of hers, so there weren't any more distractions. He downed his last bite and sighed contentedly.

"I'm twenty-three," he answered. "But if that's your way of casually trying to find out how much time's passed since she died, then I give you kudos for catching onto the fact that we were twins." She flushed a light pink and shook her head, even if it was true.

"No, I was just wondering-"

"Don't worry about it. At first everyone asks questions and it drives you crazy, but when everyone moves on, you wish they hadn't. The anniversary's coming up." Rather than risk saying something insensitive, Mikaela stayed quiet and let him talk. "You always wonder if there was something you could have done."

Those simple words made it impossible for her to lift her eyes from the table. To think, if she'd actually died the other night, her father would wake up to a world where his only kid killed herself, just because she was lonely and couldn't wait for him. To think she'd almost caused someone the pain Benji radiated from beneath a cloak of relaxed acceptance… She was ashamed of herself.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. She couldn't explain where the words came from, but when she met his eyes, he had a strange expression. He looked away to get something from his backpack, but she had a feeling it was more to break his gaze from hers than for efficiency's sake.

"It happened a long time ago," he said reassuringly, "but I do appreciate the apology." He dropped thirty dollars on the table and stood up. "This one's on me."

"What? No, I-"

"Don't make me give you a free one-way ticket on a guilt trip for reminding me of my dead twin sister," he warned, but even when he was saying such dark words, there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes. "Trust me, I'm good at it."

She bit back her arguments and, after a second of thought, got to her feet. "Thank you, then," she said, and to her surprise, she didn't have to pretend to be honest. He smiled, and she felt a familiar warmth spread in her chest. Before she could think about it too much, she moved forward and gave him a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. "And I'm sorry, Benji."

The voice that came out of her throat wasn't her own, but he didn't seem to notice. He rested his chin on top of her head and hugged her back, then gave her a quick kiss on the forehead as he pulled away. "It's okay, Marie. It'll all be over soon."

What he said didn't make sense, but she felt relief when he said it anyways. She watched him leave with a sense of longing to follow him, but the moment the door closed, it disappeared. The last words of their exchange replayed in her mind. Why had he called her Marie? And why had she hugged him? As quickly as the confusion came, it disappeared, instead replaced with a sense of purpose.

October was coming to an end, and there was something she had to do.

* * *

Damon dropped his head back against the wall, exhausted from trying to reach into Caroline's mind. She was intentionally blocking him out, and that meant he'd only have success if he was persistent. It was a good thing that he definitely was. She'd been asleep for a while, so he was pretty sure his message would play out in her dreams.

The sound of Mikaela's car pulling into the driveway caught his attention. The girl was a strange one, all right. One minute she was acting too old for her age and the next she was arriving at the house late at night just like any other teenage delinquent. Zack greeted her at the door, and they talked for a couple of minutes about (of all things) Halloween decorations. He was having some trouble reminding himself that the Mikaela he'd met at the Founder's Ball didn't actually exist, but even so, she sounded different. More alive, which led him to believe that the scare he'd given her worked. With a sigh, Damon went over what happened that night, if only so he could remember not to let his guard down around the bipolar teenager. Listening to Mikaela go through her nightly routine, he finally heard the sound he'd been waiting for and closed his eyes.

He had only one shot.

* * *

After an evening of hard work, a long shower was exactly what she needed to wind down before bed. She came out of the bathroom in an extra-large gray ARMY shirt her uncle had given her with black leggings, the most decent pajama she could come up with considering she was used to sleeping in a tank top and underwear. She didn't see anybody on her way to her room, so she assumed everyone had already gone to sleep and tried to keep the noise level to a minimum. It'd been a long day for everyone, and they all needed their rest.

God knew she needed her rest for tomorrow. She needed to find Damon's ring, if only to destroy it. She was through with making deals with the devil, and if not knowing what happened when she'd tranced at the Founder's Ball was the price to pay, then she'd pay it. She ignored the energy pulling her from the basement and crawled into bed, slipping beneath the thick, welcoming covers. She smiled contentedly and closed her eyes.

The vision crept up on her while she was dreaming.

_She was __**so**__ dead._

_Damon stood against a wall, arms crossed as he waited for the girl in question to pass by. Bonnie had made it clear that Mikaela was planning to get rid of him, and though he didn't know exactly how, it meant she had to be taken out of the picture. What made her think she could outsmart him was beyond him, but that was hardly important. The female mind was a mystery he didn't care enough to figure out, at least not beyond ways to get fast, easy satisfaction._

_The dance floor was within view, and among the couples dancing, he caught sight of Elena and Stefan. Ah, of course… He smirked. Mikaela wouldn't know the first thing about a vampire's weaknesses, but Stefan would be more than willing to provide that knowledge if it meant getting rid of him once and for all. Mikaela could've proven to be a worthy ally, but they'd never know for sure. Poor naive Stefan… when he found her dead body, he'd only have himself to blame._

_As if on cue, Mikaela appeared on the edge of the dance floor. The Lockwood boy held out his hand to her for a dance, and with a smile, she accepted. Damon rolled his eyes: teenagers. He'd let her have her last dance, then he'd pull her from the crowd and-_

_Suddenly she jerked her hand away, a rejection if ever he'd seen one before. She looked around, eyes wide and jaw clenched tight. She had a confused look on her face, but when the Lockwood boy spoke to her, it was as if she'd gone deaf. Oblivious to his overly defensive arguments, she walked away without any explanation. Not knowing what to do, Lockwood stormed off in the opposite direction. It'd have been comical were it not for the fact that something weird was going on._

_She walked slowly back into the house. When she was within reach, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "How many times do I have to tell you, Caroline? Stay away from the football players," he said condescendingly, just loud enough for her to hear. She mumbled something to herself with a smile, then moved past him as if he weren't there. He raised an eyebrow. "Okay…?" _

"_K, what's up?" Elena's ex-boyfriend called loudly from down the hall. He waved for her to join him and Bonnie by the front door, but she didn't seem to hear him and kept walking. Damon watched with curiosity as people greeted her and she continued forward, very much like somebody who was sleepwalking. He looked back at the dance floor, but Elena and Stefan were too busy arguing about something to pay attention to what he was doing. With that in mind, he followed her at a safe distance, paying attention to everything around them on the off-chance that it was a trap. _

_She walked up the stairs and down a hall, never looking back or acknowledging anyone's presence. Finally she reached a door and slipped into the room, closing it behind her. Damon looked over his shoulder and listened to make sure nobody had followed him, then ran at vampire speed into the very same room._

_The study was dim and silent. A desktop lamp had been turned on and Mikaela stood in front of it, her back to him. She looked at a spot on the wall with curiosity, but when he closed and locked the door behind him, she turned around, a smile on her face. _

_Why was she smiling? Did she feel victorious for leading him all the way there? Did she think she had a chance against him? He could snap her neck before she even thought to scream. He met her eyes, though, and noticed something different. _

_She didn't look at him with the wariness she always did, but rather with delight and, if he weren't mistaken, something like flirtatiousness. That was enough to make him seriously consider killing her on the spot, but then she turned her head slightly, and he reconsidered. Her eyes were no longer brown, but an unnatural green. He didn't spend much of his time observing women's eyes, but he'd watched her enough to notice the change. Then again, maybe she'd worn contacts and he hadn't noticed…?_

"_You kept me waiting, lover," she said, breaking the silence with a sweet, melodic voice that was not her own. "If I weren't so kind, I wouldn't have waited as long as I have."_

_Nope. There was definitely black magic at work._

_He looked her over carefully for changes. There didn't seem to be any, at least not physically. His only guess was that she was possessed thanks to some sort of witchy business, but the woman she was impersonating seemed to know him. As far as he knew, he and Mikaela only had one mutual acquaintance… But that was impossible, wasn't it?_

"_Elizabeth?" he said cautiously. Rather than bark a laugh or roll her eyes like he expected her to, she smiled and moved forward. When she was barely a foot away from him he considered taking the opening and breaking her neck, but curiosity got the best of him. She laid a hand against his cheek in a very un-Mikaela-like fashion and looked straight into his eyes._

"_Damon."_

_It couldn't be possible. "Elizabeth Knight?" he pressed. This time she did roll her eyes._

"_Yes, Elizabeth Knight," she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Are we on last name terms now? If that's the case, I'd prefer you call me Elizabeth Salvatore."_

_Now that was a bit too much. "Salvatore?" he questioned. It had to be some sick sort of joke. He'd never been married before. She nodded and twirled around, then settled onto the loveseat with her legs dangling over the side._

"_A girl is allowed to dream," she said in playful defense. "Stefan even made a comment about being our best man if we could manage to afford a ceremony."_

_If he'd thought hearing the so-named Elizabeth Knight claim the Salvatore name was strange, Stefan offering to be his best man had to be bordering madness. "Stefan, our best man?" he repeated doubtfully. She sighed and looked back at him. This time, rather than look at him with the twinkling eyes of a young woman in love, she looked at him with confusion._

"_Are you alright, Damon? You look pale." She got to her feet and walked towards him, a bit too quickly. He prepared to toss her across the room at the first sign of attack, but she didn't make any move to touch him. She simply observed him, concern etched onto her brow and a hint of confusion in her voice. "What's wrong, my love?"_

_He narrowed his eyes at her. She reached forward and touched his cheek again. That was when he decided things had gone too far._

_Elizabeth Knight, an old lover from his human life? That had to be the biggest joke he'd ever heard of. Sure, he'd courted women before, but Katherine had been the only one he'd wholeheartedly pursued. Mikaela's eyes turning green? She was a witch. He'd seen her boil water and heard her predictions, so changing the color of her eyes wouldn't be too big of a challenge. As for a motive, he'd killed her, so he'd be stupid to think she wasn't ultimately after revenge._

_It had to be a trap._

"_Look, I know what you and Saint Stefan are up to," he stated, "so you can drop the act already." _

"_What do you mean?" she asked, portraying nothing but confusion. She was the epitome of innocence, and that irritated the living hell out of him. "Damon-"_

"_Caroline," he snapped mockingly. She stared at him. "Bonnie already told me your plan," he bluffed. She didn't even react to the lie. "Come on, don't play dumb. I know you want to get rid of me, but I don't care. I'm not going anywhere."_

"_I don't want you to."_

"_You know what? That's it." Just as he was planning to end the game once and for all, she turned the tables._

_It wasn't a typical kiss. _

_He'd always found that younger women preferred the man take control. Mikaela, however, was different. She didn't wait for any consent before gripping the front of his shirt and pressing her lips against his. Reflexively he tried to pull back, but she was already expecting that and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, molding her body to him. If he hadn't known any better, he would've sworn she was a professional seducer, because after only a moment of physical contact, he gave up fighting._

_He'd be lying if he said he'd never imagined a similar scenario. Most of the fantasies had been born that night at the café. It was natural for a vampire to link the blood lust to normal lust, and when he'd seen her for the first time, she'd made him crave both. Her blood had left something of an impression on him, but sexual fantasies had taken backseat to deciding whether to kill her when they'd met again. The complexity of the situation plus her very unwelcoming attitude had shattered any dream he'd had of any foreplay to him feeding on her, very much like telling a kid that the Santa Claus he'd taken a picture with in Wal-Mart was a random drunkard._

_After a couple of seconds she pulled back, and in the silence, the familiarity started to creep in._

_It was like back in the hospital room when Mikaela had slapped him. Something about the situation screamed déjà vu: the expectant look in her eyes, the way she played with the hair at the nape of his neck, the minuscule distance between their bodies... He couldn't place what the trigger was, but unlike last time, he knew what was going on. She was _his_ woman, and bloodlust aside, she was his for the taking. He placed both hands on her waist and pulled her against him, surprised by how familiar-and more than anything, __**right**__- the action felt. She lifted her hands and linked them behind his neck, smiling warmly and lifting her face up ever so slightly…_

_

* * *

_

Well, if you've seen the episode when Damon gets locked up, then you should have seen the one when he gets out... Wanna see how he gets out? Review! I'll wait for... 4 reviews to get started. Thanks guys, every one means a lot to me! Take care of yourselves.


	10. The Horrible Things We Do For Love

At four o'clock in the morning, Mikaela decided there was no way she was falling back asleep. Her dream had been more than disturbing, it had been downright scary, and she found herself reluctant to close her eyes for fear of having another experience from Damon's perspective. With a sigh of defeat, she threw off the covers and made her way to the bathroom. She might as well take a shower and start the day early.

Okay, so Damon hadn't been lying when he'd said she'd kissed him. Technically though, it hadn't been her: somehow Elizabeth had possessed her and made her try to seduce Damon. Why, she didn't know, and on some level, she didn't want to. It was obvious Elizabeth and Damon had been involved back in 1860-something, and the deeper she delved into that story, the more she'd feel of the deceased woman's love and eventual heartbreak. She had enough heartbreak of her own, and she wasn't enough of a masochist to want any more.

_Mikaela..._

The man couldn't give her a break even when she was taking a shower. "Piss off," she said firmly, and proceeded to wash her hair. Damon had been calling to her from the basement for the past couple of hours, and if she let her guard down, she feared she might find herself outside his door. At this rate, she wouldn't even need Stefan to convince her to go back to her own house. Wasn't reverse psychology the best?

_Help me..._

"No."

_I answered your questions, get me my ring._

"Go find it yourself."

_**Now**__._

She grumbled angrily and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. "I mean it, Damon," she warned. "Leave me alone or I'll de-spell your precious little ring."

_I'll rip your throat out..._

She decided not to merit the threat with a response and went about her morning routine. She blow dried and ironed her hair, just to have something to do. When she was finished, she sorted through her clothes until she found a pair of comfortable jeans and a hoodie. Her mother was always preoccupied with her appearance, and in a way, she'd passed that onto her daughter. Mikaela's father, however, was more a jeans-and-a-T-shirt kind of man, and that morning, she felt like taking a leaf out of his book, especially considering what she was going to do.

There was a point on the Salvatore property that her father had always been particularly fascinated with (a bluff, she believed it was called). There was a small waterfall and something like a lake, and some of his best photos had been shot there at sunset. Mikaela marched toward the area with a feeling of nervous excitement she hadn't felt in a long while. As the saying went, the night was always darkest before dawn, and that was particularly true as she snaked between the trees, aided only by the help of a dying flashlight and her memory of the easiest route.

This was the sort of thing that the photographers who worked with National Geographic did, trekking through the wilderness in hopes of getting that one shot. Going through private property hardly qualified as "trekking", but it was enough to make her heart beat ever so slightly faster in her chest.

When she reached the bluff the sky had barely started to lose its inky black color, so she settled on a log to wait. Pulling her camera case onto her lap, she assembled her professional Nikon so she'd be ready. It would be a while before the sun came up, but when it did, the wait would be worth it.

However, as tends to happen when one's waiting for something, Mikaela's mind wandered to the things she wanted least to think about. The first was Elizabeth Knight, Damon's supposed lover. According to the flashback Damon had projected to her, she'd mentioned something about a wedding. She'd seemed incredibly happy, but at the same time, it was obvious that their relationship was secret. Why else would they be arranging secret meetings? Also, had Katherine arrived at Mystic Falls yet? And what about the Founder's Ball could have possibly triggered Mikaela's trance?

Why her?

The question seemed strangely foreign to Mikaela. It was obvious why Elizabeth's ghost would show her her past with Damon: her third eye was wide open and they had a blood bond. It was always easier for a ghost to appear to a descendant. However, the vision didn't seem to be the subject in question.

Why did someone like Elizabeth have to get her heart broken?

The woman seemed nice enough, all things considered. She obviously had horrible taste in men if she fell for someone like Damon, but the sincerity of her feelings for him could not be questioned. She'd loved him as much as any woman could love a man and then some. While it seemed incredible to Mikaela that that could even be possible, it also dampened her opinion of the woman. She was weak to end her life and cause her family so much pain, just because some jerk changed his mind.

Benji's face came into her head at that moment, catching her off guard. It seemed his twin sister's story was very similar to Elizabeth's, only his sister selfishly left a kid behind while Elizabeth only threw her own life away. Either way, it was still the same concept: both caused irreparable damage to the people who loved them because a single person decided that somebody else was more convenient.

Love was the root of all evils, and yet it was the one thing every human wanted.

The sound of leaves crunching under footsteps snapped Mikaela out of her thoughts, but to her relief, when she pointed her flashlight at the woods, it was a familiar person who walked towards her. Uncle Zack nodded in greeting before sitting down on the other side of the log, leaving a comfortable distance between them. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked with a sheepish smile. He nodded.

"I can't wait for this to be over," Uncle Zack said, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Stefan said it won't be much longer. Once Damon's put away, I'll sleep."

Anyone else would have told him he needed his rest, but Mikaela knew how he felt and that there was no point in trying to change his mind. Chances were he'd fall asleep standing up anyways if worst came to worst. "Is Stefan as much of an insomniac as we are?"

"He was in the parlor when I left." For a minute neither of them said anything. Before when Mikaela used to live in the boarding house, she and Uncle Zack could talk for hours, only stopping to breathe because they had to. Now, she couldn't think of anything to say that didn't make her throat clench up. That was the main reason she'd stopped visiting after the accident: everything about the boarding house brought back memories, and those memories hurt. She felt guilty for abandoning him, but the strange thing was that he seemed to radiate guilt as well.

"Your father used to love this place." There was that lump in her throat. She nodded quickly, but didn't dare open her mouth. It was one thing to face the tragedy on her own; it was another entirely to talk about it, especially with the man who was her father's best friend as well as her godfather. "He started painting it once and then it started to rain. By the time he got it back to the house, most of the colors had smeared, but he just told everyone he'd done it on purpose." Mikaela gritted her teeth and sucked in a tight breath. "He really did love you more than anything."

"He isn't dead, Uncle Zack," she muttered, unable to hold it anymore. "He's going to wake up soon."

"I wish I could say I'm going to live to see that day."

She furrowed her brows. "What do you-"

"You don't have to be a psychic to know certain things."

"Well, seems like we all had the same idea." Stefan stepped out of the woods with a sheepish smile on his face. Distracted by Stefan's arrival, Mikaela realized the house was empty and stood up in alarm. "Don't worry, the sun's coming out." He was right: the sky had taken on a light blue color, signaling that dawn was coming. Even if Damon did get out, he wouldn't be stupid (or strong) enough to leave the house. "What are you guys doing out here?"

"Morning walk," Zack answered, welcoming the change of subject. Following his lead, Mikaela held up her camera.

"Photography class homework. I've been behind thanks to vampire business."

"You shouldn't let that happen," Zack said with a very fatherly tone. Mikaela smirked.

"Yeah, homework definitely takes priority to some vampire finding any excuse to threaten my life," she said sarcastically. "How could I have overlooked that detail?" Even Stefan got some semblance of a smile at the joke, but just to make sure Zack wasn't offended, she added, "Don't worry, my grades haven't gone down, Uncle Zack."

"They'd better not."

"Have a seat, Stefan!" Mikaela said loudly, ignoring the commanding tone Zack's voice took on. She patted the space of log between her and Zack. "Come watch the sunrise with us. It'll be romantic."

"Romantic?" Stefan repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Not really my thing at the moment."

Knowing he was referring to his and Elena's problems, she gave him an encouraging look. "Okay, not romantic. It'll be nice. We all have issues, so just take a minute."

He surrendered and settled onto the log. Mikaela sighed contentedly and looked out in the distance. She was surprised: it actually did feel nice. She'd been spending the last couple of days with those two men, and it felt good to get out of the house with them, even if only for just a couple of minutes. "What did Damon say to you yesterday?" Stefan asked.

She should have known the moment wouldn't last.

"He wanted me to get his ring," she answered, still staring off at nothing in particular. There really was no point in keeping it a secret from him. She felt his aura pulse, and a single image entered her mind: the ruins of an old estate. The original Salvatore estate? A tumbled hollow pillar hid a fabric bundle, concealed underneath a rock. Was that where Stefan put the ring? How poetic of him.

"In exchange for what?" Zack pressed, alarm entering his voice. "Mikaela, you can't-"

"Uncle Zack, come on," she interrupted, holding up her hands defensively. "You know me better than that."

"It's just-!"

"Just what?" she snapped. "Please, I don't want him out any more than you guys do. In case anyone forgot, he literally killed me."

Zack took the tension in the air as his cue to leave. "I'm going to the house," he said, and walked into the woods. Mikaela groaned and ran a hand through her hair. Leave it to her to get into a fight so early in the morning. Stefan put a hand on her shoulder, a strange gesture coming from him.

"We're all tired," he reasoned. She nodded in agreement: two hours of sleep was not the way to start the day. "Zack's worried, and so am I." She heard the unspoken question at the end, but he voiced it anyway. "What did Damon show you?"

"It was all his fault," Mikaela murmured. Stefan didn't say anything, which she took as his indication to continue. "Elizabeth's death. She was his lover back when he was human and they were gonna get married. Then Katherine came and he dumped her. I don't know if Katherine compelled him to do it or if it was simply that easy for him to replace her, but it literally killed her. Damon showed me through a flashback that her ghost possessed me at the Founder's Ball."

"Why would he show you that?"

"To convince me to find his ring. I wanted answers, so he gave them to me with a price tag attached." She noticed then that she could see everything considerably clearer and turned on her camera. "Picture time," she announced, getting to her feet. She walked to the edge of the water and waited for those first rays of sunlight to break through, greatly aware of Stefan watching her.

It didn't take long for her to get the shots that she wanted, so within an hour they were both back at the house getting ready to go to the Sexy Suds Car Wash. At first Mikaela had considered staying in and catching up on some much-needed hours of sleep, but then she'd actually entered the house and felt Damon's energy fluxing from the basement. The last thing she needed was Damon getting in her head.

She came down the stairs and sat in the parlor to wait for Stefan. Clad in a pair of denim shorts and a white tank top with a black bathing suit, she was prepared to help if the teams needed it, even if she wasn't part of any school organizations. Caroline had sent the e-mail to everyone she considered "worthy", and to Mikaela's e-mail, she'd attached a very brief apology for their fight. Mikaela knew that was as good as it was going to get in regards to fixing things up with the girl, and hoped that showing up to the fundraiser wouldn't ruin that progress.

Zack came into the room, a list in his hand. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she asked, "What's up with all of the lists?"

He looked up with a somewhat startled expression. As a child and teenager she'd always assumed Zack was nervous by nature, maybe a consequence of abuse or trauma; now, from a post-Damon perspective, it was painfully obvious that it was because of the vampire "problem" in his family. He moved to the pile of books and boxes on the coffee table and made a sweeping gesture to indicate the mess.

"Your father left a record of things he wanted you to have if anything happened to him," he answered. "I've been getting around to it, but it's a pretty long list, and some of these things are hidden at your house." She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting him to say, but it hadn't been that. She immediately stood up and took the list he handed out to her, scanning over the items hungrily. The list was mostly composed of books and journals, but there were some things she couldn't imagine her father owning.

"Why would Dad have an 'amethyst meditation stone'?"

"I think that one's from Diane's side of the family."

She cocked her head to the side. "Why would dad have anything from mom's side of the family?" she inquired, genuinely surprised. "I thought mom hated all of that family history stuff."

"She... _separated_ herself from everything that had to do with the Founders after the fire," he clarified. "Your father was able to save almost everything from being burned or sold, but he had to make sure she didn't find out." Mikaela nodded, not bothering to go into the details that were already public knowledge.

Her mother broke down after the fire and went crazy, burning all of her salvaged possessions, getting drunk in the Mystic Grill, spending outrageous amounts of money on clothes and several other crazy antics that had caught public eye. Eventually she'd gone into therapy, and under the therapist's recommendations she took a trip to South America to relieve stress. She hadn't been home for more than two straight months in the years that followed, always finding any excuse to leave her town, country and family behind.

It actually made sense that her father would be the one to take charge of family matters. "Well, at least you found the necklace," he said, breaking her out of her thoughts. She touched the choker she wore on her neck and gave him a questioning look. "It belonged to your ancestor from Uncle Stefan's time."

"Elizabeth Knight?"

He shook his head. "You're thinking about your mother's lineage. From your father's side, your ancestor was Felicity Greene." He pulled a thin, aged journal from one of the largest boxes on the table and handed it to her. "That's from the year 1864. She was a psychic like your father was and like you are. As a matter of fact, she was only a year or two older than you when she wrote that."

He looked at her like he was expecting some sort of response, but she could only hold onto the book for dear life. Her father had wanted her to have it. She sucked a deep breath in through her nose and turned to him, eyes shining with tears she was determined not to shed. A knot had formed in her throat so she couldn't speak, but she kept her composure and swallowed it down to utter a quick "thanks" before leaving the room.

There was so much she didn't know about her parents (especially her father), and Zack had been spending the last week or so gathering together the only things that could maybe shed some light on where they'd come from. The house was full of memories that hurt, but for the first time since she'd started staying there, she found something that didn't make her insides twist. She wished she'd been able to better show him how grateful she was for the unnecessary act of kindness, but judging by the smile he'd worn on his face before she'd turned around, he'd understood.

Stefan came down the stairs then dressed in casual clothes and wearing his customary serious expression. Mikaela wiped her eyes to make sure no unwelcome tears spilled over before joining him. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready." She nodded and started walking to the front door.

"See you later, Uncle Zack!" she called over her shoulder, keeping her tone as casual as she could muster. He yelled something back that sounded like "have fun", but she wasn't sure.

Climbing into the driver's seat, she leaned over to unlock Stefan's door for him. The car was a mess with clothes and food wrappers everywhere, so she threw everything from the passenger seat to the back seat to make room for him. Stefan had ridden in her car before, but as he got in, he actually looked around.

"Do you live in here?" he asked, half-seriously and half-jokingly. She actually laughed at that and shrugged.

"Believe it or not, I used to sleep more in this car than in my own bed." When Stefan's disbelieving look didn't change, she elaborated. "Dad would give a class at the university and I'd have to drive him to and from night sessions. There were nights we were both too tired to drive, so we'd crank up the heater and sleep for a couple of hours before driving home."

"It sounds like you two were close."

She nodded and started the car. "I'm a daddy's girl."

It didn't take too long to get to the car wash. The fundraiser was already in full swing with music playing and almost-naked teenagers washing cars, laughing and splashing water at each other. All in all, it looked like fun. As she pulled up to the parking lot, however, she had a sudden thought.

"I'll come by later," she said as Stefan stepped out of the car. He looked back at her, barely concealing his suspicion. She rolled her eyes. "I'm just going to stop at City Hall and see if I can go through some records. Also, it's been a couple of days since I go to the hospital. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Call me if there's anything I can do," he said. In other words, let me know if you suddenly decide to go find Damon's ring for him. She nodded and waited for him to close the door and join Elena before actually driving off.

It scared her how easy it was becoming to lie.

* * *

It didn't take long for the right moment to arrive. Between five and six o'clock in the morning the three occupants had left the boarding house and he'd taken the opportunity to unlock a window in the kitchen. A little while later the younger Salvatore left to go to some school car wash with the Knight descendant in tow. It was better that way: he didn't want her involved in this.

The only one left in the house was the actual human occupant, Zack Salvatore, who'd given him a tour of the building several weeks before. If he squinted through the stained glass windows, he could see that the caretaker had fallen asleep on a couch. Satisfied that it was safe, he circled the building to the kitchen.

He pushed open the window he'd previously unlocked and swiftly climbed inside. He listened for any footsteps or cries of alarm; when he heard none, he ran quietly to the door that led to the basement. Stopping one last time to listen, he opened the door and descended the stairs.

Damon had to have heard him, but when he walked up to the door and looked inside, he neither saw nor heard anything. The vampire had to be hiding. Figuring it was better that way, he lifted off the wooden plank holding the door closed and pulled open the door. The vampire seemed to fly out of his prison, hands outstretched to grab him by the neck.

He grabbed Damon's arm and twisted it around his back, slamming him against the far wall of the cell. The door closed behind him. "If you want my help, shut up and do exactly as I say," he growled into Damon's ear, not wanting Zack to hear in case Damon's show had drawn his attention. "It's three o'clock in the afternoon, Zack's loaded with vervain, and I've just fed. You're trapped. Do you understand?" He waited for Damon to nod before letting him go. Just in case, he moved to the other side of the room, far enough that he'd be able to see if Damon tried to attack.

Damon turned out to be smarter than he remembered him to be because he stayed on his side of the room. The vampire's face was furious with dark veins protruding around the eyes and his stance weak. He had to have been locked up for at least four days already, and the hunger was taking its toll on him. "What... do you want?" Damon asked, his voice raspy.

"It's not about what I want, trust me," he stated, making sure that his distaste for the vampire showed through. "I'm going to leave this door unlocked." He looked at his watch to calculate how much time it'd take for the sun to go down, then gave up. "At around five, you're going to drink the blood I'm leaving you. Whatever the hell you do after that is your business." He tossed a bag of blood wrapped into the middle of the vervain plants growing there. He wasn't going to make this any easier for Damon.

"The... catch?"

"Well, you're not as dumb as you look," he commented casually. In the blink of an eye he was holding Damon six inches above the ground by his throat, the action as easy as slipping a backpack over his shoulder. With an easy swing, he dumped him on some sacks of dirt. "Just make sure that when you leave this house on a blood-sucking rampage, you steer clear of Mikaela Greene. Am I making myself clear?"

Damon coughed and groaned, rolling onto his side. For a moment he didn't say anything, then finally he looked up at his self-proclaimed rescuer. First recognition lit his face, but it was closely followed by exasperation. "Are you serious?" he exclaimed.

"What the hell kind of a paramedic are you?"

Benji rolled his eyes and cracked his neck. "First of all, I'm an EMT, dumb ass. A vampire EMT, obviously," he corrected. "Second of all, you're in no position to be asking questions considering I'm the one saving your useless ass. Third of all, just for the record, you're a dumb ass for taking so long to recognize me."

"Why... are you doing this?" Damon pressed, certain there was more to the rescue. Benji cracked his knuckles.

"Let's just say a deal's a deal," he said with a shrug.

Then, as tended to happen when Caroline walked through the door, all hell broke loose.

One second. Benji looked over his shoulder and noticed the human girl. He made the connection that Damon had been waiting for her all along and cursed under his breath. Damon also noticed the girl, and his stomach twisted into a knot.

Two seconds. Damon dove for the girl. Benji dove for Damon. Caroline stared.

Three seconds. Benji grabbed Damon by the collar and threw him against the wall.

Four seconds. "RUN!" Benji yelled. Like a gunshot being fired, his command made Caroline run. Damon snarled and ran after them, stumbling like a drunkard and yelling furiously. Benji could have been out of the house in the blink of an eye but he stayed close behind the blonde girl, trying to make sure she didn't get killed on his account.

Once he reached the foyer, Zack intercepted them. Caroline ran past him. Upon seeing the wooden stake in Zack's hand, Benji's instincts took over. He snarled and bared his fangs, a big mistake. The Salvatore's descendant raised the stake and made to drive it into his chest, but Benji was much too fast. In a second and a half, the man was cold and lifeless on the ground, head twisted at an unnatural angle.

Benji heard the front door being jerked open, closely followed by Damon's cries of agony. The vampire didn't have his ring, but he'd been so used to always having it, he'd forgotten his limitations and tried to chase her out of the house. What a moron. Then again, Benji couldn't judge, not when he didn't even know his own limitations: one minute he could be pulling a bloody victim from a car wreck without giving in to the hunger, and the next he was killing a man for defending himself without batting an eyelash. He lowered himself onto a knee and placed a hand over the man's eyes.

_Forgive me._

Damon approached him then, his breathing ragged. "Don't ask me for anything," Benji warned, his voice low. "You're on your own now. Just stay away from Mikaela, and we'll call it even."

"What do you want with her, anyway?" Damon asked. To Benji's surprise, he could already form a sentence without stopping for breath. When he looked up, he saw that Damon held his crow in his hands, a gaping wound in the bird's chest. Blood was smeared around his mouth, showing just where his newly found strength had come from. How convenient. "What makes her so special?"

"That can be answered in many ways, but let's settle with the fact that I find her interesting," he said vaguely. "As to why I find her interesting, that's none of your business." At that point, Benji decided it was time for him to leave the boarding house. He'd done what he went there to do, so without saying anything else, he ran out.

* * *

Mikaela never went back to the car wash.

Stefan called her once it was over, but she ignored the phone call and pulled out of her driveway. She'd been at her house for about an hour or so searching through closets until she'd found what she was looking for, so it was with an air of satisfaction that she drove to the hospital to visit her father.

The receptionist greeted her with a smile and eyed the two shopping bags she carried at her sides with curiosity. Mikaela simply smiled back and made her way to her father's room, but was surprised to see that somebody was already visiting. A man stood at his bedside, hands stuffed in pockets as he looked down at the sleeping patient. She'd seen him so few times, and yet she recognized him immediately.

"Is it a habit of yours to investigate patients whose lives you've saved?" she asked, cocking her head to the side as Benji turned around. He gave her a sheepish smile and shrugged.

"You two are my favorites," he admitted. "Does this bother you?"

She shook her head and dropped the bags she was carrying against the wall. "Nah, it's all good. Someone needs to make sure nobody forgets he's here." She bent down and pulled a large quilt out of one bag. "Just don't say anything you wouldn't want him to hear; I read that sometimes when people wake up from comas, they remember everything that happened around them."

"Well, let's hope he doesn't wake up too angry about me spending time with his daughter." He watched as she spread the quilt over her father, tucking it under his sides with great care. "Did you bring that from your house?"

"Yup," she answered. "My Uncle Zack had some lists of things my father wanted me to have, and on that list was this quilt. I found it hidden in a box along with some board games. It belonged to an ancestor of ours from the Civil War era, a slave. It was passed down through his family until he married a white woman, and then it was passed down through our lineage. I figured he'd like to have it close."

"History nut?"

"You have no idea." Once she'd made him comfortable, Mikaela sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh. "So, what are you really doing here, Benji?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "That obvious?" She nodded and he sighed. "In all honesty, I was hoping to find you."

"What for?"

He shrugged. "Maybe if you asked my shrink, she'd tell you I'm looking for my dead sister in every young girl I meet." She raised a brow suspiciously. "Joking aside, I'm stuck in Mystic Falls for a couple of days and I don't know anyone."

She waited for the red flags, but found none. "Well... If you don't mind waiting outside for five minutes, we can meet up at the Grill and shoot some pool?" It was safe enough: separate cars, crowded place, broad daylight. If worst came to worst and he turned out to be some psycho, all she'd have to do would be tell the bartender to call the cops.

Relief washed over his face and he nodded. "Sounds good. I'll just head out now so you can have some time with your dad."

She waited until the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall before turning to her father. He wore the same expression he wore every day: serious, yet calm. He was her hero, and for years he'd been the rock in her life. He was invincible and knew everything, and yet there he was, trapped in his own body. She longed to hear his voice again, to hear his counsel, to have him advise her on what to do next... But he couldn't, so she had to take matters into her own hands. She leaned down next to his ear and took a deep breath. She had to tell somebody.

"Dad... I've done something terrible," she whispered, swallowing down the knot of shame. "I lied to my friends, but I had to. You were the one who taught me about trusting my instincts, so that's what I'm going to do." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded fabric pouch, then slipped it under the covers and into his hand. "If you wake up before I come back, destroy it, even if I beg you not to. That will mean God wanted things that way."

Clearing her throat, she stood up and grabbed one of the bags she'd placed on the floor. Not daring to look back, she marched out of the hospital room and to a night she'd never forget.


	11. Dance With the Devil

**Author's Note:**

**Happy Thanksgiving, loving readers! I've been working a lot the past couple of weeks and finals are coming up (I'll be done with school and finals by December 17- have I mentioned that my college is the best?), but I'm still working on this story, and I am grateful for every single one of your reviews ;] To my latino readers, you all know how it gets around the holiday season- parties EVERYWHERE. Christmas starts in November, ha ha... Anyways, here's the latest chapter, and as usual, once I get a review, I'll get to work on the next chapter, ok?**

**Again, thanks for all of your support!**

* * *

"So, would you ever dance with the devil?"

The Mystic Grill was packed, but that was to be expected considering it was a Saturday night. Benji and Mikaela were lucky enough to have a pool table to themselves, and after flipping a coin, Benji was the one to break. When they'd first arrived they'd eaten and then spent the next several hours alternating between playing pool while talking and then simply talking at a booth. The restaurant/bar was filled with familiar faces, as always, and despite how much Mikaela told herself to ignore everybody, she could hear the whispers with an uncanny clarity. She was getting quite the reputation of a man-eater. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered her so much if it wasn't for the football team giving her dirty looks: Tyler was sure to get an update within the hour.

Focusing on the conversation, she shrugged and leaned back in the stool she was sitting in. "Chances are I already have," she said with a shrug. Benji looked up from aiming to give her a questioning look and she explained. "Last year, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie and I used to drive out to this club on teen night and dance for hours."

"Really?"

"Yep," she confirmed. "I used to dance with almost every single guy there, so it's possible that the devil was one of them."

Benji made a double shot and walked around the table. "Why don't you go anymore?"

Ah, the same question she was asked every time she ran into one of said guys that she danced with. "Death changes things," she answered with a shrug. "It didn't seem as important anymore." She waited for him to take his next shot, but he sighed and stood up, giving her a sheepish smile.

"It's no fun to play pool when I finish the whole game by myself," he said. He was right: he only had one more ball left. "You take a turn." Rather than argue about the pity turn, she took a deep breath and approached the table. "So tell me, Miss Greene: what is it like to die?" Benji asked, leaning over the pool table.

Mikaela was aiming at a yellow ball, but with Benji leaning over the side of the table the way he was, it wouldn't make it into the hole. She looked up at him and raised a brow expectantly, not allowing herself to smile at his mischievous grin. "Come on, I'm curious."

"It's all dark and then there's a light at the end of the tunnel," she answered in a flat tone. "I also saw my grandmother whom I've never met. Satisfied?" She pointedly pulled back the stick, ready to hit the ball. Taking the hint, he raised his arms in surrender. The yellow ball missed the hole by an inch and bounced back to the middle of the table.

He snorted. "Wow, that was terrible." She rolled her eyes and leaned back, resting her hands on the cue stick. "My grandmother has better aim than you, and she's almost blind."

"Shut up and take your turn," she ordered, rolling her eyes, but failing at suppressing a grin. He was right: it'd been a while since she last played, and she was out of her game. He held out the beer he'd been drinking, offering her a sip. She denied it with a shake of her head and he downed the rest.

Benji bent forward and turned his head so he was at eye level with the cue ball. "So, really," he said, returning to the previous topic, "what was it like?"

She sighed heavily and made a show of trying to remember. He raised a brow at her exactly as she had to him only seconds ago, and she sobered up. "In all honesty?" He nodded. "I don't remember too much. I remember feeling at peace and floating away, but then..." She stopped.

"Then?"

"... It was like something, or somebody, pulled me back." She met his gaze and he held it for a second before shooting the ball. Of course, it was a perfect shot. "Why are you so curious, anyway?"

He shrugged and moved a couple of feet to the left so he could make his next shot for the black 8-ball. "You could say I have something of an... undying interest in death," he said vaguely. "I see people die on the street all the time. I want to know what they felt."

"Trust me, the whole dying experience is overrated," she muttered. The car accident was a memory she didn't try to visit too often, but the agony of drowning entered her mind unbidden, and she shivered. "When your time comes, you'll understand that."

"I'm sure I will."

Clack! A perfect shot, game over. Mikaela groaned and moved to sit on a stool. "Does your girlfriend know you're this evil?" she asked. He'd only mentioned having a girlfriend that one night when he'd visited her at the hospital, and she was curious about the kind of woman she was. "I wonder if it'll cause problems if I tell her that you like to pick on innocent teenage girls."

He barked a laugh and stood up straight, stretching his arms and back. "Nah, I doubt she'd care," he admitted. "We broke up last week."

The guilt hit her like a freight train. "Insert foot in mouth," she muttered, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I had no idea."

He waved a hand nonchalantly. "No worries, it's not your fault," he said. "I blame religious differences."

"Why?" she asked cautiously.

"I'm a Catholic and she's an Edwardian." She cocked her head to the side, not understanding. "Twilight fanatics get on my nerves."

She couldn't hold back the laugh that burst out of her then. "No way! You broke up with her because she likes Twilight?" she exclaimed dubiously. He grinned.

"Hey, what can I say? I have high standards." He gave her a smug grin and walked over to join her. "But in all seriousness, it's really irritating to be constantly compared to some fictional sparkly emo kid."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't know, but I would guess it is." She pulled two quarters out of her pocket and held them up. "Double or nothing?" she suggested, nodding at the pool table.

"And what are we betting this round? Sexual favors?"

She rolled her eyes and snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "You're not my type," she deadpanned. He pretended to be wounded, but she knew better than to take the flirtatiousness seriously. She got more of a brotherly/friendly vibe from him.

"And just what would be your type?" he asked, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and leaning against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a specific kind of answer, but she couldn't imagine what.

"Besides not being in their early twenties?" She contemplated the question for a moment. "... I pretty much concluded a long time ago that I like assholes."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I should have known..."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Come on, he's not even that good-looking," he continued. She was completely lost. "Not to mention he is _definitely_ in his early twenties."

That was when it dawned on her. "Damon?" she questioned. He gave her a look that had "Duh!" written all over it, and she felt her stomach flop over. "Oh, come on! No! That's gross!"

"Hey, he _did_ stay the night when you were hospitalized," he argued, "and he _is_ an asshole."

"He's the biggest asshole I know, but-!"

"Don't deny it, he said you were his girl," he continued. "You guys actually looked like a couple." She groaned.

"That's just because he's an ass."

"Which you apparently have the hots for."

She stood up and gripped her cue stick threateningly. "I may not be so good at pool, but when it comes to causing injury, I'm a genius," she warned. He chuckled.

"Fine, fine, I'm just saying..." He paused to make sure she wasn't about to hit him with the stick. When she didn't, he continued. "Well, you guys seemed to have chemistry."

"Chemistry?" She scoffed. "As if. He's evil, and evil is a step down from asshole, which is about as low as I'll go."

"Come on Elizabeth, you of all people should know there's good in Damon," he reasoned.

"Benji, why are you-?"

The words stopped in her throat. Her ears started to ring and she felt her insides freeze as she turned to look at him. She couldn't breathe. He seemed to realize his mistake and his expression went blank, but he didn't say anything. The red flags that hadn't gone off in all of the hours they'd been spending at the Grill were waving urgently then, all saying one thing:

Get away.

"I've gotta go." Without waiting for a response, she grabbed her car keys off the table and walked briskly for the exit.

"Mikaela, wait!"

She ignored him and walked faster. Her car was parallel parked close to the entrance, so if she hurried, she could get to it before he got to her. He'd called her Elizabeth which meant there was something supernatural involved and she had to leave before she got possessed again or something worse. She pushed open the door with unnecessary force in her haste and almost hit somebody on their way in, but she didn't even apologize and ran for her car. Just as she'd unlocked the door and pulled it open, she saw a hand shoot out and slam it shut.

She whorled around with a scream in her throat, but Benji clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her. The contact sent a single word into her mind: vampire. That pretty much did it. She started screaming for help and punching at him, but he seemed completely unaffected and closed the distance between them so that the tip of his nose could touch hers if she stayed still for long enough.

"Stop yelling and don't fight me," he ordered, his voice deep with authority. She immediately stopped hitting him and shut her mouth. She knew he was compelling her, but as she tried to reach out and break the connection like she'd done with Damon, she couldn't. Unable to block him, she felt the urge to fight his command slip away. He pulled his hand away from her face, but leaned against her car with either of his arms framing her face so they were still very close. "Now, you're going to do exactly as I tell you to..." She felt a sleepy haze fall over her and nodded, accepting every command he said next.

"Get away from her, now!" Elena's voice rang through the night. Mikaela blinked and turned to see her friend running over, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

Benji pulled away from Mikaela as if she'd thrust a knife at him. "It isn't what it-"

"Just get away from her," she repeated urgently. Mikaela stared at Elena, slightly confused. Mikaela didn't know what Benji was, so why did she sound so frightened? Without another word Benji walked away. She shook her head, breaking out of her daze. What had just happened? She remembered being in the Grill, then running out because of something he'd said, but what had happened after that? Bits of Elena's aura distracted her: anxiety, anger, stress, worry, but most of all, fear. Elena, afraid of her? Before she could further contemplate the reason, Elena spoke. "What really happened the night you were attacked?" Her jaw was tight and she was trying to keep a strong facade, but it was obvious she didn't feel at all brave.

She knew.

"I was attacked," she answered evenly, looking straight into Elena's eyes.

"By who?" There was no concern in her voice: she just wanted confirmation.

"...You know the answer."

"By who?" Elena demanded through gritted teeth.

"A vampire," Mikaela answered quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. Elena's face blanched. "What gave it away?"

"People drained of blood," she replied, her voice shaking. "The rapid healing, the physical changes, and then there was this video from the 50s... The news says they caught a mountain lion, but all of this started after you got out of the hospital and Stefan came into town. You came back different."

Something clicked in her head then. "Elena, it's not what it sounds like," she said, moving forward. Elena immediately backed away, terrified. "I haven't changed, I'm still-"

"Stay away," she warned. Mikaela obeyed, certain the girl would have a heart attack if she was pushed too far. "I have to go." Before Mikaela could stop her, Elena turned tail and ran. She cursed under her breath and reached into her pocket for her cell phone as she jumped into the car. Stefan didn't answer his phone so she pulled onto the main road and drove to Elena's house.

Only Jenna's car was in the driveway, so Mikaela figured she must have gone to Stefan's house. If that was the case, Stefan could handle the rest, and it was time for her to go home. With a sense of purpose, she turned the car around and started towards the boarding house. Halfway there she saw Elena's car speed past her, but Mikaela didn't follow her back. All she wanted to do was go home.

The boarding house was silent when she arrived and all of the lights were on. She parked her car in its usual spot and walked in, relieved to finally be back. Stefan could handle the Elena situation, all she wanted was to take a hot shower and forget about the outside world...

* * *

Mikaela was having a very pleasant dream of picnicking as Elizabeth Knight on the Salvatore estate with the two brothers. A young girl, maybe only two years old, was running around the grass trying to catch butterflies. The trio chatted animatedly while two of their servants watched from a comfortable distance, the chaperones for the outing. It was a sunny yet breezy day, the perfect day for a picnic. She laughed at a story Damon was telling and allowed her hand to rest on his arm, a casual enough gesture to outside eyes, but actually a secret message between the two lovers.

The breeze suddenly became very warm, softly blowing the hair on her neck and making her skin prickle. She tried to move so that the wind hit her from a different direction, but no matter how she moved, the warm air brushed along her skin like a kiss. She was becoming flustered and there was no way to stop it, but then she felt an odd sensation of falling and realized she was waking up.

She expected to open her eyes to the sun flooding in from between the curtains, but curiously, the curtains were drawn shut. She yawned and stretched, settling onto the covers with a content sigh. She raised a hand to feel for the draft of air that may have woken her up but felt nothing. With joy she remembered that it was Sunday, which meant there was no reason for her to get up early.

"Hallelujah," she said quietly as she stretched again, arcing her back and stretching her arms above her head.

She felt her arm hit something and turned lazily to see what it was. Lying on his side with that characteristic smirk, Damon watched her expectantly, ice blue eyes looking straight into hers. "Good morning," he greeted in a song-song voice. She narrowed her eyes at him and reached out a hand, running the tips of her fingers along his cheek.

No, he wasn't a remnant of the dream.

With a strangled scream she scrambled out of bed and backed up to the far wall of the room. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she barely held back her primary instinct to run. He looked like he always did, only unlike the past several days, he actually looked healthy, and for some bizarre reason, he wasn't wearing a shirt. "Stefan didn't come home last night and I fed plenty, so there's no point in screaming," he warned, sitting up against the headboard. "You're defenseless."

"How the hell did you get out?" she demanded. Her eyes flew all over the apartment searching for any sort of weapon against him. Of course, because it was simply a bedroom and not an armory, there was nothing. He sighed and folded his hands behind his head.

"You can thank Caroline and that EMT guy who has a crush on you," he answered, waving a hand as if it didn't matter. "It's a _really_ long story, and I'd much rather stay on topic..." Before she could even gasp, he was inches in front of her, hand held out. "My ring?"

"I don't have it," she stated, backing up. With every step she took back, he moved forward, eyes never leaving hers. "Why don't you call Stefan?"

"I did, but I asked _you_ to get it, my dearest Caroline," he said, his voice sickly sweet. He was mocking her. She'd slowly been inching for the door, but once she wrapped her hand around the knob, he slammed it shut and trapped her against it. "So... Where is it?" he asked quietly, whispering the words in her ear. His breath blew against the hair on her neck, making her shiver. A slow, sneaky smile spreading across his lips, he pushed her hair back from her face with his other hand and allowed his fingers to trail down her arm. She jerked away from his touch and tried to move around him, but he grabbed her upper arms to keep her from moving.

"I don't have it!" she repeated, this time with more urgency. "Let me go!"

"Make me, you little liar," he challenged.

"I'm not lying!" she exclaimed.

"Spoken like a natural."

She growled and tried to pull out of his grip. It was pretty much useless considering how strong he was, and at that moment it was as if every spell she'd learned with Bonnie's grandmother disappeared from her mind. All she was left with was instinct. She pushed against him and he moved back a step, but he never loosened his hold so she ended up getting jerked forward and almost losing her footing. She yelled out in frustration and tried to regain some distance, but he held her to him in a strange embrace, leaving absolutely no space between them.

"Let go!" she hissed, grunting as she tried to pull away. He sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Must we have this same conversation again?"

"I don't have your stupid ring!" she very nearly yelled, leaning up so that the words went straight into his ear. "How many times do I have to say it?"

"Until I actually believe you," he answered simply. "You already tricked me once."

"What?"

"Oh don't play dumb, it doesn't look cute on you," he said scoldingly. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Poisoning you?" she questioned. "Zack spiked my drink, I had no idea there was vervain in my system."

"Yeah, right."

"Fine, don't believe me!" she snapped. "Just let me go!"

"Why?" he questioned, looking down at her so their faces were a mere half-inch apart. "It's not like I have anything better to do. It's daylight, and may I say that you look simply _delicious_ in these PJ's."

She couldn't hide the blood rushing to her cheeks as she remembered that she'd chosen last night, of all nights, to wear a black camisole that exposed her midriff and matching shorts to bed. She was pulled almost completely against him with her arms squished between her body and his bare chest, a skin-to-skin contact that was anything but casual. One of his hands lowered to the small of her back where her skin was exposed, but she set her jaw and refused to let it show on her face that he had any effect on her. Whether he was playing the role of predator or sexual molester, he was trying to make her nervous, and she wasn't going to let him succeed.

He leaned forward and she immediately stiffened. He smirked. "You want to kiss me again," he said, his pupils expanding and dilating strangely. When she didn't feel the need to close the space between their lips, she thanked the heavens her block against his compulsion was still strong and turned her head defiantly. He shrugged, completely unaffected. He ran his nose down her neck, allowing his breath to trail along her skin as he sighed contentedly. "Like I said, _delicious_..."

This time when she pushed him away, he allowed her to. "Come on, just a bite," he pleaded. Giving him a look of disgust, she threw open the door and marched to the bathroom, looking over her shoulder to make sure he didn't follow. He didn't, and she offered up a prayer of thanks that she'd bored him so quickly.

It took slightly longer than normal to go through her morning routine, even if she did skip taking a shower (there was no way in hell she'd risk Damon seeing her naked), mostly because she was jumping at every noise and constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't sneaking up on her. Even if he'd said his escape had something to do with Caroline and Benji, she couldn't imagine what happened. She had a feeling that Benji was a vampire, but for some reason, she couldn't remember how she'd reached that conclusion. The questions only made her more wary of him and more desperate to leave the house.

She dressed quickly by pulling on a pair of low-rise jeans, boots and a jacket over her camisole, then rushed down the stairs, hoping to get out before Damon noticed. Music was playing loudly throughout the house (she hadn't known Zack installed a stereo system), but the vampire in question just happened to come out of the parlor at the exact moment she reached the last step, a glass of scotch in one hand and some girl dancing off the other.

She glared fiercely at him and held up a hand as if placing a shield. She was grateful he'd thrown on a shirt, even if it was unbuttoned, because she couldn't allow biology to give Damon more reason to torment her. "I'm leaving right now," she stated. "I had nothing to do with Stefan locking you up nor do I have your ring, so leave me alone."

"But why so soon?" he asked with a pout, letting go of the girl and walking— well, more like sashaying— towards her. The smell of alcohol was strong on him, which explained his strange behavior. "It's the weekend!"

"Yeah, there's no way I'm-" She choked on her words as the girl twirled around and their gazes met. It took a second or two for her to register exactly who was standing in front of her, but when she did, she didn't know what to do other than stare. Vicki stopped dancing long enough to look Mikaela up and down. Catching the look in the girl's eyes, she held up her hands and walked away.

"This one doesn't count, he told me he was single!" she yelled, walking back into the parlor. She was clad in nothing but a tank top and underwear, and if Mikaela concentrated, she could see a thin film over the girl's eyes: compulsion.

Snapping out of her shock, Mikaela turned back to Damon. "Vicki Donovan?" she hissed. "**Seriously?**"

"I thought you'd be happy I didn't kill her," he commented, downing the rest of his drink. "You two know each other?" She sighed exasperatedly and rubbed her forehead: just when she thought he couldn't get any worse...

"We're not friends, if that's what you mean. What's she doing here?" she asked tiredly.

He shrugged. "I brought her home after dinner last night," he said casually. An image of several young people lounging around a graveyard entered her mind. "Hopefully she'll keep me entertained until the sun goes down and I can find Stefan."

"Just let the slut go home," Mikaela said, shaking her head. "I'm sure you can find some other source of entertainment."

"Well, I did, but she's leaving now," he reasoned, moving to the foot of the stairs so she was at eye level with him. "Maybe if she stayed, I'd let the poor, innocent junkie go home..."

"Not a chance," she muttered.

"But Vicki's such a _sad, sad _girl," he whined. "I promise I'll let her go if you stay, and then we can have so much _fun!_"

For some reason, Mikaela knew it wasn't entirely a joke. If she stayed, he could compel Vicki to forget everything that happened and send her home. The catch, though, would be spending the next eight to nine hours at the mercy of a drunk, bored vampire that had already tried to kill her on several occasions. Looking past him, she watched the girl that had stolen her first love, the constant walking reminder that it didn't matter how much you loved someone: sex conquered all. She shook her head and walked around Damon. "I'm outta here," she called, and grabbed her car keys off the table. "Knock yourself out."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. If anything happens, it's on your head."

She wrapped her fingers around the handle and stopped. She tried to command her arm to contract the muscles needed to open the damned door, but it wouldn't. He was right. The guilt was opening a gaping hole in her chest and paralyzing her, making it impossible to leave. Yes, the girl had hurt her, and many days she thought that her dislike had grown into full-blown hatred; however, she knew better than to believe that she herself was completely heartless. With a growl of frustration, she chucked her bag to the floor and marched into the parlor.

"You!" she barked, nodding at Vicki. The girl had been twirling around Damon, but when she heard Mikaela, she froze. "Get out."

Vicki looked between her and Damon, unsure what to do. "Listen, I don't know what's going on between you two, but-" Damon gave Mikaela a knowing smile before whispering something in Vicki's ear, cutting her off. The girl nodded and walked over to a sofa. With the pair watching, she curled up and soundly went to sleep. Obviously he'd used compulsion, but even so, it was a strange thing to see.

When nothing else happened, Mikaela immediately became accusatory. "I thought you said-"

"She's my guarantee," Damon said simply, placing his glass on the wet bar for a refill. "She can leave once the sun goes down."

"Guarantee?" she repeated incredulously. "But-"

"Hey, you can still leave if you want to."

"But you said-!"

"Drink?"

Mikaela groaned: sometimes there was no negotiating with him. After a deep breath, she let out a sigh and accepted the offer. "Ah, not such a saint now, are we?" He walked over to where she was standing and handed her a glass of whiskey. She held the drink with a sense of apprehension, looking up at him with an unspoken question. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, it's not gonna kill you!"

"No, whiskey won't kill me," she said with a slow nod. "You might."

"I _might_," he agreed, prolonging the word "might". "But not yet."

"Yet." The word slipped out unbidden, but she didn't take it back. She knew it was the truth, even before he smiled and winked. He didn't say anything, and yet it was as if he said everything. She should have run out then and there, but she didn't. She couldn't knowingly leave the girl defenseless with Damon. Damned complications. He noticed her staring at Vicki and surrendered.

"Fine, she can leave." Looking like a little kid who'd just been ordered to clean his room, Damon shook Vicki awake. The girl began to stir and he lifted her up from the couch bridal-style, carrying her to the foyer. "Don't move," he ordered as he passed by. She obeyed and stayed put, but listened for the sound of the front door opening. It didn't come. Instead, she heard the sound of someone falling to the floor. In a couple of seconds, he was back.

"What did you do?" she asked cautiously, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Dropped her by the door," he answered, retrieving his glass and swirling the whiskey on ice around. Why did that make her smile? "She'll go visit Jeremy when she wakes up."

Knowing she'd reached the limit of Damon's graciousness, she nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah yeah, now it's your turn to hold up your end of the bargain," he reminded her, taking her hand and leading her to the stereo. "I know just what you need." She reluctantly followed and watched as he picked out a CD and pushed it into the drive. A song she recognized started to play, and without fully realizing it, she started to sway. It was one of her favorite songs to dance to, and as the intro thrummed through the speakers, she recalled dancing to it a number of times with different strangers. Damon looked at her expectantly, but she didn't do more than sway.

"Come on!" he urged impatiently. "Dance, drink, live a little!"

"That's a mouthful, coming from you," she shot back, but even so, the song was working its spell. If she had to go through the day with him, it might as well be with good music and a little help from the alcohol. Closing her eyes, she lifted the glass to her lips and gulped down the whiskey. She almost choked at the explosion as it went down her throat. She coughed and shook her head, shocked by how strong it was. "Damn, what the hell is that?" she exclaimed, giving him back the empty glass. He smirked.

"It's a secret." He put down the glasses and moved closer. "Well, you've got the drinking part down..."

She had a bad feeling about this. Even as the aftershocks of the bourbon, whiskey, alcohol, whatever, wore off, she couldn't shake the feeling. He held out a hand to dance and she hesitated. Could she do this? Could she really follow through? She'd survived a broken heart, being abandoned by her mother and had even cheated death twice, but this? She felt her hands shake and she clenched them tightly: she was on stage, and there was no room for nerves on the stage.

Feeling like a witch having a noose slipped over her neck, she raised her hand and carefully placed it in his. A look of triumph crossed his face, and she knew that on some level, he had won. This dance was different from the other deals they'd made: this was proof that she could be beat. No matter what, Damon would get what he wanted, and nobody could stand in his way. His other hand went to her waist and she closed her eyes as the reality set in.

She was trapped.

There was no guardian angel watching over her.

The only one with a hero complex in the whole God-forsaken town was her.

The devil had won, and nothing and nobody would come to her rescue.


	12. Don't Kiss Me, Don't Kill Me Either

**Author's Note:**

**Well, here's Chapter 12! Thanks so much for your reviews this last chapter guys, they really pushed me to get this next out and they're making me want to get out lucky number 13! Let me know what you guys think. Finals are coming up hard as we near the end of the semester, but even so, if there's enough feedback, I'll try and get the lucky chapter out within a week. **

**Enjoy!**

**~Bianca**

**

* * *

**

**Meanwhile:**

For all of the security measures taken by the hospital to protect its patients, nobody seemed to even notice Benji standing over Joseph Greene, a solemn look on his face. He remembered meeting him when the man was only twenty-one years old. Joseph had gotten his girlfriend pregnant the night of her graduation from Dartmouth University and he was standing outside the front door of her house as she told her parents. Benji could still remember the horrified look on his face, but now, there wasn't a trace of that fear on his sleeping expression.

He could see why Mikaela looked nothing like her mother; if Joseph had been born a woman he would have been Mikaela, only possibly somewhat taller. Memories were flashing by unbidden, but he refused to let himself get too distracted and cleared his throat.

"I can't say you did a perfect job, but you did do a good job, Joseph." He knew the girl's father would never wake up, so he didn't feel worried at all about saying what he wanted to say. "You two ignored me and never told her about the curse, but you guys got lucky. She's stronger than Diane ever was, so she'll be able to handle it. I'm sorry this has to happen to your daughter, but this is my sister we're talking about here. Just rest easy, it'll all be over soon."

He lifted the covers and, surely enough, there was a small fabric pouch under the man's hand. When he pulled it away he saw his hand twitch, and sighed. He had no doubt in his mind that Mikaela had spent hours upon hours in that room staring at her father's face and silently begging him to show a sign that he could hear her. He also had no doubt that her pleas had never been answered. Right then, though, the distress just barely showed on the man's face, and he felt the slightest ounce of pity for him.

Listening to make sure that nobody was passing by the door, he leaned forward and whispered into the man's ear. "There's no point in fighting it. You got your wife, so I get your daughter. I'll keep her safe, and you'll never have to worry. You can die now." And with those words, he left the room.

* * *

**Several Hours Later:**

"Hey, you've reached my cell phone. I'm either busy or ignoring you, so leave your name and number, and when I get the chance, if I feel like it, I'll call you back. Bye."

Stefan cursed. Last night, Elena had figured out he was a vampire. He'd followed her home to make sure she didn't tell anyone anything, and in the morning they'd met up to talk. She'd demanded to know why Damon had turned Mikaela into a vampire. It had taken a lot of questions and explaining to get onto the same page, but when they did, he realized that Mikaela and Elena had spoken the night before. Something had to have happened to the psychic if she hadn't called Stefan at all ever since. Driving to the ruins of the Salvatore estate with Elena in the passenger seat, Stefan picked up his phone and dialed Mikaela's phone for the fifth time that hour.

This time he didn't get her snarky voice mail.

"Mikaela's phone."

Stefan felt as if cold water had been poured over his head. "Damon," he said stiffly, trying to keep his composure. "Why do you have Mikaela's phone?"

"Oh Stefan, so good to hear from you," Damon greeted cheerfully, ignoring the question. "Have you found my ring yet?"

"What have you done to Mikaela?" he demanded, not allowing Damon to carry on his game.

"Have you ever seen this girl sleep? She is absolutely _adorable_," he continued, "and have I mentioned completely defenseless? She's so fun to play with."

"Damon, you're not thinking straight. Don't-"

"I want my ring, so as long as you want her to have a heartbeat, you'll get it for me. Once I'm done with her, I'm stopping at Elena's." And with that, Damon hung up the phone.

"What's going on?" Elena asked carefully. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and sucked in a shaky breath.

"He's got Mikaela with him."

* * *

**One Hour Later:**

Back in sophomore year Tyler started experimenting with alcohol. It hadn't been Mikaela's thing and she'd simply ignored it, but then one night he'd shown up at her house completely drunk. Luckily her mother was in Jamaica at the time and her father on a short business trip, so she'd been able to take care of him as best as she could without anyone asking questions. After forcing him to take a cold shower and change into some of her father's old clothes, she'd laid him on the couch for the night.

She hadn't expected the hangover he'd have in the morning. He'd complained of the worst headache of his life, soreness and almost uncontrollable nausea. Lots of aspirin and coffee later and he'd recovered somewhat, but that moment was when she'd sworn she'd never get that drunk in her life.

Despite the oath, when Mikaela woke up with the world spinning around her, she knew that a hangover was exactly what she had. She groaned and tried to roll over in bed, only to very ungracefully crash to the floor. Rather than hit hardwood, she felt her skin scrape against a rug, which was surprising to her. There weren't any rugs in her room.

She only noticed she'd fallen on her wrist once she tried to lift herself off the floor with it. Pain shot up her arm and she fell down again, this time on her back. The parlor looked much bigger from the floor, but try as she might, she couldn't remember just how she'd gotten there.

"I give the dive a six for effort."

Damon's voice from her left caught her by surprise. She turned her head to look at him, but the pounding behind her forehead forced her to close her eyes and drop her head back on the rug. She groaned and clutched her wrist to her chest. She felt her stomach threatening to spew up gastric juices as the floor continued to rock, but she clenched her mouth shut and tried to fight the urge.

Headache, nausea, an injured wrist and slight amnesia.

Just peachy.

"Come on twinkle toes, let's get you back on the couch." In a second Damon had hoisted her up and laid her on the couch. The motion caused her stomach to flop again and she covered her mouth. "I swear, if you dirty this couch-"

"Then get me a bucket," she said through tight lips.

She felt a draft lift her hair, signaling that he had left. She was going to wait for him to come back with a bucket, but then she felt bile rise in her throat and she scrambled to her feet. She stumbled across the room, crashing into furniture and walls along the way, but finally she reached the bathroom door and closed her fist on the knob. Dizziness hit her and she swayed back only to fall against a warm body.

Damon rolled his eyes and opened the bathroom door for her, keeping an arm around her shoulders so that she wouldn't fall. Not wasting any more time, she lurched forward and emptied her stomach's contents into the toilet bowl, managing to throw her hair over her shoulder just in time.

"Now that has to be the single most attractive thing I've ever seen a woman do after sex," Damon said from the door. The thought made her heave again, and this time she swore she saw stars in her vision.

"Shut up," she gasped as she paused to take a breath. "What the hell-?" She keeled forward as another wave of nausea hit.

"I'm just going to-"

"What the hell happened?" she demanded, her voice hoarse. She took deep breaths and closed her eyes as she flushed the toilet. With shaky legs she moved to the sink and started to wash her hands, making sure to be gentle with the hurt wrist. To her surprise, when she lowered her head to wash her face, Damon held her hair back. She gave him a wary look before continuing and rinsing out her mouth. "Thanks... Now, what really happened?"

"I told you, we-"

"Don't even joke like that," she muttered, not meriting the joke with a serious response. He smirked and rubbed her back between the shoulder blades.

"You don't remember anything?"

She braced her hands against the sink and closed her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to subside. The cold water had helped clear her head somewhat, but the way his hand felt on her back was making her feel sleepy again. She started to remember bits and pieces of dancing in the parlor, sometimes alone, other times with Damon.

"I remember dancing," she answered slowly. An image of a half-empty bottle entered her mind then, and she was certain it had been full that morning. "Oh God, how much did I drink?"

He barked a laugh and she groaned. "You seriously can't hold your alcohol," he commented, only adding to her embarrassment. She already knew this, which made her feel even more stupid for drinking in the first place. "But I will admit, it makes you quite... _friendly._"

She closed her eyes to hide the embarrassment. "Are you serious?" she asked, about ready to go hide in a hole. She knew what he meant by "friendly". When he didn't answer, she peeled open one eye and caught him staring at her reflection.

"Do your eyes ever turn green?" he asked suddenly. She raised a brow, at a loss for how to answer the question. "I'll take that as a 'no', then."

"What are you talking a-" She cried out as she accidentally put weight on her wrist. In a second Damon grabbed her arm and started to examine it. She tried to pull it back but he kept a firm grip on her elbow.

"You're an idiot, twinkle toes," he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. She pursed her lips. "Who sprains their wrist in their sleep?"

"You're an ass," she shot back. He shrugged.

"I know."

He led her back to the parlor with one hand around her arm and another on the small of her back in case she got dizzy again. Once he guided her to the couch, he disappeared at vampire speed. She laid on her back, resting her head on a comfortable pillow. Why anyone liked getting drunk was beyond her. In a couple of seconds he was back again, a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other.

"This should help," he said, motioning for her to sit up. She obeyed and accepted the pills, downing them in a second with the water he offered. "I'm surprised you didn't check to see if I was poisoning you."

"I'm pretty sure nothing you can do is as bad as this," she muttered, moving to lay back down. Damon grabbed her elbows and pulled her to her unsteady feet. "Oh God, I'm not dancing anymore, _please-_"

"I know that," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm taking you upstairs."

"What-?"

"Stop asking questions and walk."

Feeling very much like a dog on a leash, she grumbled and let him help her to the second floor where her apartment was. In front of the bathroom, he let her go. "Brush your teeth and take a shower. We're going out."

"Where?"

"What did I say about questions?"

"You said I could leave once the sun went down."

"We'll discuss your freedom once your breath doesn't make flies drop." She opened her mouth to argue and he held a finger to her lips, making her freeze. "Unless you want me to force you into that shower and clean you up myself, you'll be done in five minutes."

End of discussion.

* * *

Many would have called it an invasion of privacy.

Damon truly didn't care. While the girl was showering off the evidence of the day's adventures, he was searching through her room for evidence. Evidence of what? Ah, that was the true question. Something strange was going on, and he wanted to know what he was dealing with.

Even after a drink, the girl had been reluctant to do anything with him. She'd stiffly danced with him for a song or two, but only after her third drink did she start to loosen up. He was surprised by the 180-degree change she made, and at first he'd thought the alcohol was entirely responsible. Then her eyes had turned green...

He shook his head to bring himself back to reality. Just down the hall she was taking a shower, and he couldn't let himself get lost in lust until he got what he wanted. In her bedside drawer he found her recorder and grinned: jackpot. He listened to make sure the shower was still running, and then he pressed "rewind".

"-Eleven thirty AM and I'm in City Hall..." As the recording played, he flipped through a folder that had also been in the drawer. It was filled with copies of historical documents and family trees from the Civil War Era, including his own. Curious, he pulled out an old article written about suicide in the eighteen-hundreds. Elizabeth Knight was briefly mentioned. "I've been here for a couple of hours but really there isn't much to find. Most of the written documentation about Elizabeth has been lost and she isn't mentioned much in any of the journals. They all say the same thing: she was a bastard child and killed herself for no apparent reason in her early twenties. She was placed in a crypt on unhallowed ground, and during the funeral, there was a fire. That's it, but I did find something about her having a brother..."

Damon pressed the pause button once he came across a page that had been torn and taped back together. It was a statement from Elizabeth's non-biological father, Travis Knight, that stated that he had found Elizabeth Knight's body with stab wounds in the arm and chest. He also wrote of demonic symbols etched in chalk across the floor and on her body in blood, confirming that the woman he'd taken into his care was a witch.

The shower turned off, but it was closely followed by the sound of the sink running. The girl had managed to find literature about Katherine, something even he had trouble doing. His surprise only increased when he found a copy of the drawing Stefan had in his room; he hadn't thought the girl was capable of stealing. All over the paperwork he found notes written in a unique hand and post-its with references to other sources. She'd mapped out the brothers' lives and Elizabeth's without any help from them, and judging by the recent dates on the logs, she planned to continue doing so.

She was spitfire.

The thought came uninvited, but it was perfect. She didn't allow herself to be a victim, but didn't blindly attack the situation. She was collected and smart, but if the fire in her eyes when she fought with him was any indication, she was much more passionate than she let on. When she danced she was pure sensuality, and it seemed the more time he spent with her, the more things he found that tempted him. And the way she kissed...!

He groaned and shook his head. Why was he torturing himself?

"What the hell are you doing?"

He turned around without even bothering to hide that he'd been sneaking. When he laid eyes on her, he gulped. She had to be doing it on purpose, she had to! She stood in the doorway with nothing but a towel on- well, that, and a very angry expression. She marched over to him and snatched the folder away, throwing it into the drawer and slamming it shut. Noticing he still had the recorder in his other hand, she reached out to take that too, but he raised it beyond her reach.

"Give me my journal!" she demanded, one hand holding her towel in place and the other gesturing for him to hand over the device.

"But it's so _interesting_," he whined. She growled and lunged forward. This time, he let her retrieve her precious recorder. "You're no fun."

"What were you doing going through my stuff?"

As she turned those accusing eyes on him, he searched in her brown irises for any hint of the green-eyed Elizabeth. It had taken him a couple of minutes to notice before, but while they'd been dancing, her eyes had turned green. If it hadn't been for the alcohol knocking her out, he would have asked to see if Elizabeth Knight was responsible for the change. The girl hadn't remembered anything from the Founder's Ball and could hardly remember their dancing which could only mean she was unaware of the possession. And the possession itself, what exactly triggered it? And why now if the ghost was as old as he was?

And why the hell couldn't he remember her?

He came back to reality when she groaned and marched over to her closet. A moment later she came back out with her clothes draped over an arm. Not bothering to explain what she was doing, she walked back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. With a grin he stretched out onto her bed and folded his hands behind his head, making himself comfortable.

* * *

Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.

The shower had made her into a new woman. Tyler had been a wreck the whole day after getting drunk, but as she combed her fingers through her just-washed hair, she couldn't help but think that she looked perfectly fine. Her eyes weren't bloodshot and all of the dizziness had gone away. The only thing that was wrong with her was her wrist. After a quick examination in the shower she'd concluded that nothing major was broken; all she'd need was a brace until she could talk to her doctor.

And then there was Damon...

She cracked open the door and peeked into the hallway. Not seeing any sign of him, she stepped out and tiptoed to her bedroom, this time fully clothed. He was acting strange, but what was even stranger was that she was nervous that he wasn't acting like he wanted her dead. If anything, he'd helped her get better. The world just had to be ending.

And yet there he was, laying on her bed with a devilish smirk on his lips. Nope, he definitely enjoyed torturing her. She thanked the heavens that she couldn't remember much from the very long day, but now she was completely sober, and there was no running from reality. Nodding at him, she started to move to her closet, but he stopped her. "Come here," he called. She looked over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow. He patted the empty space on the bed next to him. "I want to talk to you."

And just when she'd thought he couldn't get any worse...

"Come on," he urged. "Don't make me force you."

And there was the threat. Biting back an argument, she stiffly marched over and sat on the very edge of the bed. "Alright, what do you-?" She yelped as he jerked her towards him, holding her body firmly next to his. The proximity was too much and she felt the nerves rush in: this was bad news, she needed to get away from him.

"Stop fighting with me for just two seconds, I'm not going to kill you."

She clenched her jaw and crossed her arms, putting some sort of barrier between them. He chuckled and ran his knuckles up and down her arm as he stared out the window. He was evil, pure evil... Tyler had done the same thing countless times back in the day, and yet it felt nothing like that. What was it with her today? Sure, he was an attractive man, but at what point did she actually start to notice that? Something supernatural had to be at work. The sun had set a while ago, which begged the question: what the hell was he still doing there?

"Damon, look-"

"Do you want to kiss me?"

The question was so simple, his tone so casual. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him, waiting for the punch-line, half-expecting him to burst into laughter at any moment. He didn't. When she didn't answer, he looked down at her and cocked his head to the side. "Do you?" he asked again. She lowered her head and cleared her throat.

"Look, I need to-"

"You're not going anywhere until you answer my question."

"Like hell I'm not," she snapped. With as much strength as she could muster she pulled out of his hold and shot up into a sitting position. She'd just managed to throw her feet over the side of the bed when he pulled her back, pinning her down by her shoulders.

This was the type of fight she was used to. She thrashed at him with her arms and curled her legs up to kick him back. He noticed and pushed her legs back down, straddling her waist so she couldn't kick him off anymore. He was everywhere, his hand stopping every punch, his body stopping her every time she tried to twist away, and after a whole minute of fighting, his voice.

"Just look at me, dammit!"

The force of the command shocked her for a moment. He took full advantage of the opening and held her face between his hands. His intense gaze made her uncomfortable and she felt her heart rate pick up. She internally squirmed as he leaned closer, his breath skittering softly across her face. Her awareness of him was increasing, but even so, it couldn't erase the reality: she was being forced. He stopped a half-inch away from her lips, waiting for something. She gulped and tried to turn away, but he wouldn't let her.

"Maybe I have to actually kiss her for it to work..." Even if he said it out loud, she had a feeling the words weren't for her. She made up her mind to bite off his tongue if he kissed her and braced herself.

"Yeah, you _really _don't like him."

She gasped as the weight that was Damon suddenly disappeared. Scrambling to her feet, she turned to the door and saw Benji standing there, arms crossed as he looked at her with a raised brow. "I don't understand you. I compel you to go home and you come here to spend the night with this psychotic idiot. What will the neighbors think?"

Before she could say anything, Damon stepped forward, placing himself in front of her. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone more annoyed than anything. "We're kind of busy."

"That's no way to talk to the guy who saved your useless ass," Benji stated, narrowing his eyes. "I'm here to talk with Mikaela, not you."

"Wait, _you_ let him out?" Mikaela exclaimed, her jaw dropping. "Why?"

Benji kept a straight face. "It's personal," he answered. "Family business." He waved a hand. "It's a really long story. Damon, will you excuse us?"

"This is _my_ house," Damon stated. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I didn't even know you existed until I saw you in the hospital. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave, **now**."

"I let you out of the basement and I can put you back in."

"I'd like to see you-"

"Shut up, both of you!" Mikaela yelled. To her surprise they both silenced, just long enough for her to get a couple of words in. She moved around Damon and pointed a finger at Benji. "You. You're a vampire and you let Damon out." Benji nodded in confirmation. "And you compelled me?"

"Last night I compelled you to go home so this dumb ass wouldn't kill you," he answered. "Of course, because you're you, you found some way to complicate everything and come here instead."

"Yeah, go ahead, just forget I'm standing right here," Damon muttered, crossing his arms. She ignored him, and so did Benji.

"But what do you want with me?" she pressed. He got a strange look on his face, something between a smile and a solemn expression.

"That's an even longer story, one I'd much rather discuss in private." He nodded meaningfully at Damon. She groaned.

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but-" Suddenly an arm wrapped tightly around her neck, pulling her back and cutting off most of her air supply. Instinctively she grabbed onto Damon's arm to relieve some of the pressure, but even then, his grip was too strong. Benji surged forward but Damon bared his fangs, warning him to stay back.

"Leave or I'm having a snack before I hit the road," Damon growled. Benji's eyes widened in alarm, but then he frowned.

"You're not going to kill her," he said. She couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, but even she knew better than to feel certain about her survival when it came to Damon.

Damon grinned and lowered his head to her neck. "You willing to bet her life on that?" he asked. For a moment everything was still, and then Benji was gone. The front door slamming was the only indication that he had actually left, and when he heard it, Damon let her go. She gasped and gratefully took in several deep breaths, rubbing her neck as her lungs filled with air again. "How do you know him?" he demanded.

Once she'd regained her breath, she answered. "He's the EMT that found me when I died, as you already know." She sat on the edge of the bed and started to pull on a comfortable pair of boots. "He's a vampire."

"No, really?"

"Don't get sarcastic on me," she muttered. "Apparently, you two knew each other. I don't know what the hell he wants with me." She paused just as she pulled up the zipper on her second boot. "To be honest, I don't even know what you want with me."

"You're my hostage," he said with a shrug. "Stefan sometimes needs motivation to do what he has to."

"And what does that have to do with you trying to rape me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. It was an experiment."

"What were you trying to find out?"

"Are you ready to go?" he snapped. "Or do you plan to ask questions all night? I have to find Stefan or kill you as a warning."

"Geez, I feel special," she muttered sarcastically. "I've never been a hostage before." She got to her feet and followed him through the door, grabbing her cell phone on the way out.

* * *

**Additional Author's Notes:**

-I intentionally omitted the hours of drunken dancing. Mikaela doesn't remember being "very friendly" and Damon doesn't feel the need to refresh her memory about it, either.

-I'm aware that a hangover doesn't come on that quickly and that it doesn't go away so easily.

-Damon is not in love with Mikaela.

-I don't in any way, shape, or form encourage underage drinking.

-I'm waiting on reviews to continue work on the next chapter!


	13. If You Want Something Done Right

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, the reviews made me wanna get the lucky #13 out before the weekend ended, so here it is! There are some explanations (finally), but more is to come. Several people messaged me with concerns, so I'm just going to say it: YES, there are romantic intentions in this story for Damon and Mikaela. Are they in love right now? Nope. Will they be? Read on and review ;]**

**Now, I have a younger brother who absolutely LOVES Nickelodeon. Today I was sitting down writing in the living room with him while he watched TV, and this one show, "Victorious" came on. It could have just been because I was writing, but I liked that actress, Victoria Justice, as a reference for Mikaela's appearance. The only thing is she looks like she could be Nina Dobrev's little sister and she's more smiley than Mikaela is, but that's as close as I've gotten so far. The body's different too... Oh! She and I have the same birthday, ha ha. ANYWAYS, yeah, here's the new chapter! It's like 1 AM, so I'm gonna stop writing here...**

* * *

There's something about stopping at a drug store with a vampire...

"What are we doing here?" Mikaela asked under her breath as Damon led her into the store.

"We'll only be a minute." His hand was firm around her elbow and he walked with purpose as he made his way to the aisle with the muscle creams. He scanned the rack for a moment before grabbing something and steering her to the single cashier. As the pimple-faced nephew of the owner rang up the total, Mikaela got a quick look at the package.

"A brace?"

Damon rolled his eyes and handed the boy a ten dollar bill. "I'm not running you to the hospital again," he said, lifting up her arm so that she could see her wrist. She'd barely realized just how badly she'd hurt it when she'd tried to fight Damon off back at the boarding house, but now she could see that it was a nasty red and swelling. "This should hold you off until we find Stefan."

"Stefan? Stefan Salvatore?" The boy (Jimmy, judging by his name tag) looked between them two, a curious look in his eyes. "He was just here looking for Vicki."

"Vicki Donovan?" Mikaela repeated, not bothering to hide her confusion. She heard Damon groan under his breath, but ignored him. "Why's he looking for her?"

Jimmy shrugged. "She came looking for some pain meds but my aunt doesn't let me sell her anything anymore. She looked a wreck anyways; I don't know what the hell she's taking." Mikaela remembered that Jimmy used to be one of Vicki's pothead friends. A couple of months ago his family decided to do an intervention, and now working in the drug store was part of his therapy. As far as she knew, he'd been clean ever since, but if he couldn't tell what she was taking, that meant something had to be wrong.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She was just acting crazy-"

"Look, we've got somewhere to be," Damon interrupted, grabbing the package off the counter. "You two can catch up later."

"Are you guys a couple?" Jimmy asked suddenly, his eyes widening. Damon dragged her out of the pharmacy before she could answer.

As he opened her car door, Mikaela narrowed her eyes at Damon and pulled her arm away. He groaned, already expecting what she said next. "What the hell did you do to Vicki?" she demanded angrily. "And don't you dare lie to me!"

"I did the girl a favor," he stated. "She is one of the saddest people I've ever met, and she'll be thanking me when this is over."

"You turned her," Mikaela said quietly. It felt as if a chill was dripping down her back as he rolled his eyes, confirming her suspicion. Suddenly she remembered when he'd "dropped" Vicki by the door- that had been the moment. "Why? Why the hell would you-?"

"Look, we can talk on the way to Elena's house, so get in the car," he ordered. She glared at him. She wanted to tell him where he could shove his face, but knew that if they started throwing insults at each other, she'd run out of time before they could get his ring.

And if that happened, she'd be dead, too.

Knowing he'd won, Damon opened the car door with a smirk and waited for her to climb in. When she did, he handed her the brace and closed the door behind her. Grumbling under her breath, she opened the package and pulled the black brace over her wrist carefully. She tightened the last strap as he started the car and pulled onto the main road.

They got to Elena's house within a matter of minutes, and despite Damon's saying they could talk on the way there, they rode in silence until he pulled into the driveway. "What are we doing here?" she asked once he turned off the engine.

"Looking for Stefan," he answered. They both got out of the car and walked to the front door. She rang the doorbell and then remembered something important.

"Elena knows about you guys," she said. "The vampire thing."

Elena opened the door then. Her eyes widened upon seeing Mikaela, but then she saw Damon and tried to slam the door shut. He shot a hand out to keep it open and turned to Mikaela with a raised brow. "You think?" he said sarcastically. He pushed open the door and pulled Mikaela in behind him by her jacket. "Good evening Elena. Is Stefan around here by any chance?"

"He's out looking for Vicki," she answered, not bothering to hide her dislike. She turned her gaze to Mikaela. "Are you okay?"

She held up the brace and shrugged. "Collateral damage, I-" Damon moved in front of her, blocking her from view.

"Uh-uh, no talking to the hostage," he said condescendingly. "You stay quiet while I and the sister-in-law talk grown-up business." Mikaela growled and leaned around him.

"How's Vicki?" she asked.

"She hasn't gotten human blood yet if that's what you mean," Elena answered, "but Stefan's out looking for her to make sure."

"Perfect! We'll be on our way then," Damon announced. He pushed Mikaela toward the door, but Elena reached out and grabbed Mikaela's good hand.

"Leave her here." Mikaela couldn't be sure if what Elena said was an order or a request, but either way, Damon shook his head and jerked her hand out of her neighbor's.

"Not a chance," he stated.

"But-!"

"Do you _really_ want to challenge me?" Damon asked, his voice taking on a threatening tone. Elena's jaw tightened and she didn't back down, but even Mikaela could see the fear in her eyes. He smirked and made his way out the door. "That's what I thought."

Something about the girl's face made Mikaela stop a foot away from the car. "Leave me here," she said, looking up at him. "I'm only slowing you down. You've already been invited into Elena's house, so it's not like you can't get me again."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you-?"

"I know where Vicki is."

They both turned to see Benji standing at the hood of the car. The vampire's face was expressionless and his eyes were fixed intently on the hand that Damon had wrapped around Mikaela's upper arm. "The girl's in the cemetery and Stefan's on her trail. He's slow because he hasn't fed but if you don't hurry up, he'll get there before you."

"Why-?"

"I don't like the way you're handling her," Benji interjected, his eyes turning dark. "Leave her here and go get your ring." For a moment they stared each other down, and then, without warning, Damon was gone. She scanned the area to make sure he really wasn't around, but there were no more signs of the vampire. She let out a breath she'd been holding and looked up at Benji. Something had been threatening to click in her head since the night at the Grill.

"Who are you?" she asked. He smiled and stepped towards her, his pace slow so as not to scare her.

"I've already told you," he answered. "My name's Benji Night and I'm an EMT." She shook her head.

"No, you're more than that," she argued. "You're a vampire."

"Obviously."

"So what do you want with me?" she demanded. "Why don't you kill me?" Sadness seemed to cross his face and he raised a hand, placing it against her cheek. She didn't pull away because she didn't want to look scared, but even so, she didn't feel comfortable with the gesture.

"You don't remember me," he said with a half-smile, "but you know who I am."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. Just say it," he urged. "Saying it won't change the truth." She clenched her jaw stubbornly.

"Who are you?" she repeated, this time the words coming out like a growl. "You're so damn familiar, but I've never met a Benji Ni-" She stopped, the words lodging themselves in her throat. It was impossible, wasn't it?

A sucking sound filled her head and she felt like she was falling back. The sound of two children laughing filled her ears and the deeper she fell into the blackness, the more she could see. She stood in the woods that bordered Mystic Falls on an early autumn morning. She wore the same knee-length white shift that she always wore in her visions and, as always, she was barefooted. She looked around her and saw nobody, but the sound of the children's laughter was unmistakable. Mikaela wandered through the trees and stood at the edge of a dirt path.

A young girl screamed in delight and burst out from behind a bush, her small feet tripping over the twigs and tree roots. A boy her age ran after her, laughing as he jumped over the obstacles with ease. The pair ran down the path and Mikaela ran after them, the sound of her footfalls muted in comparison to the clarity of the vision.

The girl looked over her shoulder and shrieked when she saw how close the boy was. She picked up speed, but it was really no use. They reached a clearing and he pounced, tackling her to the ground. They rolled through the grass, a mess of legs and arms and hair until they slowed to a stop. Mikaela carefully stepped through the tall grass, listening for the sounds of their laughter and heavy breathing until she found them.

"Benji, you should know better than to treat a lady so roughly!" the girl scolded, pushing him. They both sat Indian-style facing each other, and now that they'd finally stopped running, Mikaela could get a good look at them. The boy was, in fact, a much-younger version of Benji. He had the same tan skin, light green eyes and brown hair that he did as a vampire, but as a child he had his hair long enough to reach his chin and there was a certain child-like chubbiness in his face that he didn't possess as an adult. He grinned mischievously, and to her surprise, his smile was exactly the same. He reached out and ruffled the girl's hair, lifting several strands out of her neat braid.

"You're no lady," he argued. "You're barely a girl."

She pouted at him and crossed her arms. "You'll see, I'm gonna marry someone handsome and you'll be a bachelor until you die, like Uncle John."

He wrinkled his nose. "Who'd marry _you_?"

"That's none of your business!" she said, lifting her nose. "You'll see."

He rolled his eyes. "Marie, the neighbor isn't going to marry-"

"I don't want to marry the neighbor!"

"Well, I don't want you to get married ever. Then we won't get to play."

The girl smiled then, her cheeks turning a light pink. She was pretty, and after a moment's observation, Mikaela concluded that she had to be the twin sister Benji had told her about. It pained her to look at the girl and know that she was doomed to kill herself. She had the same complexion as he did and identical light green eyes hooded by dark lashes, but looking between the two, Mikaela noticed a warmth radiating from Benji that was absent in his sister. Their auras were completely different.

"I promise I'll always be with you," she said. Suddenly her eyes lit up as an idea occurred to her. "Give me your pocket knife."

Without asking any questions, he pulled a small pocket knife out of his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped it off on her skirt and sliced it across her open palm. She did the action so naturally and didn't even wince, so it took a moment for Mikaela to realize what she'd done. The girl held out her other hand so that she could do the same to Benji.

"Come on, don't be a chicken," she urged. When Benji hesitated, she nodded encouragingly. "Trust me."

He did. He stuck out his hand and closed his eyes as she cut an identical gash into his hand and then placed both of their hands together. "We'll always be together," she said, her voice taking on a deep tone. "No matter what happens, naturally or magically, we'll always find our way back to each other." The hairs standing on the back of her neck indicated that magic was at work, but that didn't make sense. Was the little girl a witch?

Benji nodded, tightening his grip on his sister's hand. "We'll always find our way back to each other."

"Swear it," she ordered.

"I, Benji, swear," he said. "Your turn, Marie."

Suddenly the girl looked straight at Mikaela, her green eyes boring into the older girl's. Mikaela began to feel lightheaded, and the girl's words were almost lost in the whirlwind that brought the psychic back to reality.

Almost.

The disorientation when she came to was overwhelming. She opened her eyes to see that it was nighttime and an adult, vampire Benji stood in front of her, eyes carefully gauging her reaction. She saw him move forward before she felt herself stumble back, dizziness almost knocking her onto the cold concrete. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a protective embrace, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping an arm around her back.

She was frozen and unable to speak. Nobody held her that way except... She blinked back the tears as memories of her father flashed by. This wasn't her father, this was... It was impossible, but...

"Her name was Elizabeth Marie, wasn't it?" she whispered. "Elizabeth Knight was your sister."

He didn't need to say anything to confirm the statement. It was crystal clear to her now: Elizabeth had given birth to a child when she was young. Because of the racism of the South during that time, the child had been ostracized and Benji had watched over it. Benji knew her mother because he'd been keeping an eye on Elizabeth's descendants ever since.

"You miss her," she said quietly. Without much thought she raised her hands and hugged him back softly. "Why doesn't anyone remember?"

"It's a part of the curse," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nobody remembers her, and because I'm her twin, nobody remembers me, either."

So many questions filled her head, and somehow she knew that if she voiced them, he'd answer. She couldn't bring herself to do it, though. He felt like her brother, be it because of Elizabeth's recent possession or for whatever other reason, and he was sad. She couldn't ignore that. She didn't know how long they stood there; all she knew was that just when her legs started to ache, he let her go. "I'm sorry," he apologized, smiling sheepishly and scratching the back of his head. "I got a bit carried away." She held up a hand and shook her head.

"It's fine," she assured him. She felt someone approaching and turned around. Stefan stood two yards away looking worse for wear. Blood stained the front of his shirt and when he looked at her, his expression looked pained. She immediately moved towards him. "What happened?"

"I... There was nothing I could do..."

Her stomach dropped. "Who'd she kill?"

"She didn't kill him, Damon did," Stefan said. "It was the anchorman, Logan Fell." It wasn't something to be proud of, but right before she felt the gut-wrenching dread, she felt relief that Vicki's meal hadn't been someone she was close to. "I'm sorry Mikaela, I really tried—"

"You did everything you could," Mikaela said firmly. He wasn't just talking about Vicki; he meant Damon as well. He'd promised her that Damon was out of the picture, and even when Damon had escaped, he'd failed to protect her. "It... It is what it is. Where is she?"

"Damon's tracking her right now, but we have no idea where she could be."

"Does she have a boyfriend?" Benji asked. She didn't know at what point they'd become acquainted or who'd informed him of the Vicki situation but she made a mental note to ask Stefan later.

"Jeremy's in the house and she hasn't been invited in yet-"

Mikaela didn't know how many stomach-dropping realizations her body could handle. "She's not looking for Jeremy," she said. Without analyzing what she would do next, Mikaela circled Damon's car and dropped into the front seat. He'd left the key in the ignition by some stroke of fate, something she was certain he'd regret doing by the end of the night. She didn't waste time in starting the car and pulling on her seat belt.

"Mikaela, what are you-?"

"I have to find Tyler!" she yelled, cutting Stefan off. He moved in front of the car to stop her from driving away. "Unless you can get to him faster, move!"

"Get into your house and stay there," Stefan shot back. "I know you're worried, but if she sees you I can't guarantee you'll be safe. She's scared of you-"

"Yeah, well, she should be!" She revved the engine as a warning. "If she hurts him, I'll kill her; if you don't move, I swear I'll run you over!" Her heart was pounding in her ears and each second that passed only fueled her panic. He seemed to notice she wasn't bluffing because he moved out of the way just as she shifted the car into drive. She took off like a bullet down the road to the Mystic Grill, certain she knew just where he would be.

* * *

**Elsewhere:**

Great. Just great.

As Damon reached the main road and started to walk towards the town, he cursed the girl for causing so much trouble. Now Stefan wouldn't let him hear the end of it, and if they even managed to get the girl before she split town, it'd be babysitting duty for Lord only knew how long until she could control herself. He hated kids for a reason: kids like Vicki were that reason. A car sped by and out of the corner of his eye he saw the driver.

What the hell was Mikaela doing driving his car?

He ran after her, and strangely enough, her path coincided with Vicki's scent trail. She pulled into the parking lot much too fast and killed the engine before bolting into the Grill, a determined look on her face. He could smell Vicki somewhere in the area, but his curiosity got the better of him and he followed her inside, watching from a distance.

She scanned the room before making her way to the pool tables. A group of football jockeys were sitting at a booth but a single teenager was playing a game of pool. As Mikaela all but ran in that direction, Damon realized who it was: the Lockwood kid, Tyler.

Mikaela's ex-boyfriend.

He couldn't understand where his distaste for the boy came from, but he didn't bother to reason with it. She walked up next to him and placed a hand on his arm, a shy smile playing across her lips. Even he knew she wasn't shy, but the change in Tyler's expression showed that he apparently couldn't tell it was an act. Damon leaned into a corner of the restaurant and crossed his arms to listen.

"Who you here with?" she asked, her tone casual. He shrugged.

"No one," he answered. Judging by the caution in his voice, he was still sore about the Founder's Ball misunderstanding. "You here with that paramedic?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Nah, he's a friend of the family," she explained smoothly. Damon almost believe it himself. "There's nothing going on there." There was a short silence and she sighed. "Look, I know this is kinda sudden, but I just wanted to ask if you would come over for a little while." Damon felt like a freight train pulled to an abrupt stop. "Mom isn't home and Elena's dealing with Stefan drama, so nobody would have to know."

Tyler laughed and busied himself with his next shot at the game. "Come on, don't play like that," he warned. "We both know you're not that kind of girl."

She shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the table, positioning herself so that her chest was pushing out slightly. "I'm willing to make an exception to the rule if you are," she said suggestively, looking up at him from beneath dark lashes. "Just for tonight..."

It was a dirty trick. She was stooping as low as a woman could and using her body to tempt the athlete. Damon could hardly keep himself still as he began to imagine what he was certain the boy was imagining as well. The only thing was, Damon wasn't being given an invitation: Tyler was. The boy looked her up and down, then met her eyes.

"You're serious." It was right on that thin line between being a statement and becoming a question. She smiled a seductive smile and looped her arm with his, leading him away from the pool table.

"Serious as a heart attack."

It didn't make sense. She'd been a hostage an hour ago, and suddenly she was looking for casual sex? Despite the little time he'd known her for, Damon knew something else had to be going on. Suddenly their eyes met. Even if she looked surprised, she swallowed and gave him the tiniest nod of her head and mouthed two words.

_Follow me. _

That was when it clicked. Vicki had mentioned Tyler only seeing her as "a piece of ass", and in the brief couple of seconds it had taken Mikaela to change her mind about leaving the boarding house, Vicki had asked if Mikaela was going to kill her. He could only assume that Vicki had slept with Tyler and that bothered Mikaela for some reason, but he didn't have enough details to be sure. All he knew was that the girl had been one step ahead of him and gotten a hold of the bait.

She pulled him out to the parking lot and started to lead him to Damon's car. She was about to get into the driver's seat when Tyler reached out a hand and stopped her. "Look, are you okay?" he asked, turning her around to look at him. "You're acting-"

She pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. "Please... Don't ask questions," she said. It wasn't an act; it was a genuine plea. "I just need you to come with me tonight, okay?"

Did she love him?

* * *

**Mikaela's POV:**

He seemed to catch onto some of the desperation in her voice because he nodded. "Okay. Just one question." She took a deep breath to prepare herself. "Is some guy going to try and kick my ass for spending the night?"

The laugh came out before she could stop herself. She'd been expecting him to ask for explanations, if she'd been drinking, when was the last time she'd gotten any action, if she was still a virgin, etc., but not that. She covered her mouth to try and hold back the laughter, but didn't succeed very well. "I d-d-don't think so," she finally said between giggles. "I'm single."

He smirked and moved forward, pressing her against the car. His hands went straight to her waist as he leaned down, the action as familiar as the back of her hand. She tilted her head up and closed her eyes, unable to hold back the smile as their lips met. It'd been too damn long since she'd been kissed, and no matter how many times they'd kissed in the past, he didn't fail to give her that warm feeling in her stomach.

As his tongue flicked out and traced her bottom lip, she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was a bad person, a horrible person for manipulating him like this, but she didn't have a choice. It was the only way. Before they could get too carried away, she broke the kiss and placed a hand against his chest.

"Let's continue this at home," she suggested. He groaned and she laughed, rubbing his arm encouragingly. "Come on, you can do it."

As he walked around the car she looked over her shoulder at Damon. He'd been standing in the shadow of the building, but she could sense more than see that he was annoyed. Yeah, she wouldn't have liked to watch two people start making out, but it wasn't her problem. If Vicki had been around-

The sound of sobbing carried to her from a couple of cars down. Tyler heard it first and started walking across the lot. Mikaela took off after him and froze when they came across a crying Vicki curled up on the cement against Tyler's car, her face buried in her knees. "Vicki?"

The new vampire looked up at the sound of Tyler's voice. Fresh tears swelled in her eyes and she started to sob again. He knelt down in front of her and started to soothe the girl. The sight made Mikaela's fists twitch, begging to be buried in somebody's face. She nodded to Damon across the parking lot and was relieved when he came to her side in the blink of an eye.

Relieved to see Damon? Yeah, the world had to be coming to an end.

Vicki's eyes widened in fear when she saw Damon and she bolted to her feet to make a run for it. Mikaela grabbed Tyler and pulled him back as Damon trapped Vicki in an arm-lock. The vampire yelled and uselessly tried to fight him off. Tyler surged forward to defend the girl but Mikaela held him back.

"Stay away from her, she's dangerous!" Mikaela yelled. Luckily Stefan arrived just then and took over Damon's job in holding back Vicki. Damon approached Tyler with a dangerous smirk on his face. "Damon-"

"Don't hurt him!" Vicki pleaded. The urge to punch the junkie nearly overwhelmed Mikaela then, but she held herself back. "Please!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm just gonna compel him!" Damon grabbed Tyler by his shoulders and looked him full-on in the face. "You will forget everything that happened here," he said, the compulsion heavy in his voice. "_Everything._" When he said the last part, he was looking at Mikaela. She jutted her jaw defiantly, refusing to apologize for her actions. He let go of her ex-boyfriend and loomed over her, his eyes menacing. "May this be the last time I catch you driving my car."

"You wouldn't have gotten Vicki if it wasn't for me," she said confidently. He scoffed. "Don't worry, muscle cars aren't my thing."

"Put it back in my usual spot." With that, he grabbed Vicki's arm and ran off at vampire speed with Stefan.

Mikaela let out a breath and turned to Tyler. He was looking around with a confused expression on his face, and when his eyes landed on her, all that was there was the same confusion. She smiled a half-smile at him and pulled Damon's keys out of her pocket. Before leaving, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "It was good to see you again, Ty," she whispered, and turned away.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**-A good amount of time passed while Mikaela was in her trance.**

**-Mikaela wasn't going to sleep with Tyler, she just wanted to get him to her house so that Vicki couldn't get him. **

**-Please review if you read! **

**-Most importantly, Happy Holidays to all of you, and please, have fun and stay safe. **


	14. Let's Change the Subject

**Author's Note:**

**First chapter of 2011! I hope you guys all had fantastic holidays. Mine were great; I will have you all know that your loyal author attempted skiing, only to be run over by two snowboarders. I welcomed the New Year with a beautiful bruise, a cold, and much satisfaction. I make it a point to not publish over the holidays, but here y'all go! I've made an exception because of all the motivating reviews- No joke, the support has helped me get through a hard time in my personal life, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you.**

**Anyways, here it is! Some explanations, but a bit more low-key considering the last couple of high-speed chapters. I have the next chapter almost done, so review if you want it! Enjoy!**

* * *

Bagged blood had nothing on the fresh stuff.

Damon leaned back on his bed and took a sip of B-positive. The day had been boring and he was set on the decision that if nothing happened within the next hour, he was heading out to town to find some answers regarding the Founder's Council. Nobody had written anything in the newspaper about Logan Fell, but if the vampire-finding watch was any indication, that was because they knew a vampire was in their midst and wanted to cover it up. If he was lucky, maybe he'd run into Mikaela; it'd be fun to bother her with the fact that her least-favorite classmate was stuck in her life possibly for eternity. Oh, and while he was at it, he could also rub in her face that she'd practically thrown herself in her ex's face, only to have him forget all about it. Both ideas seemed equally as appealing to him.

He heard Vicki walk into his room before he saw her. Heaving a sigh, he moved over on the bed so she could sit next to him. "What's wrong?" he asked condescendingly. "Is our new vampire bored?"

"How much longer until the sun goes down?" she asked, not bothering to conceal her annoyance as she stretched out on her stomach next to him. "It's so _boring_ here!"

"You're telling me," he agreed, finishing the rest of the blood. He could see the hunger in her eyes as he placed the empty glass on the bedside table but he didn't pay it much attention. Stefan would throw a hissy fit if he gave the girl human blood, and while it would be entertaining to get on his nerves, he didn't feel like cleaning up the mess that would surely follow. "Then again, you're under house arrest, so it doesn't make a difference."

"Let me go out," she pleaded, scooting closer to him. "Please?"

He chuckled and folded his hands behind his head. "Sorry, puppy dog eyes don't work on me," he informed her. "But if you want to go outside and get some sun, be my guest; just be sure to call Stefan first so he can clean up the mess."

She pouted and propped herself on her elbows. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"No."

"What's up with you and Mikaela?"

He'd been waiting for her to ask that question. He raised a brow and gave her an expectant look. "I'll tell you what's up with us if you'll tell me why you're so scared of her."

"I'm not scared of her!" she retorted. After a moment under Damon's doubtful stare, she caved. "Fine. I slept with Tyler a year or so back when they were still together. We were drunk at a party and it just happened. When she found out, she punched his face in the middle of the Grill and then jumped me at the cemetery."

"She beat you up?" Damon repeated doubtfully. She nodded.

"I couldn't tell the cops because I was high when it happened and she was good at hiding her bruises."

"You were able to get a hit on her?"

"We fell down a ridge." Damon couldn't help but snicker at the image of the two girls fighting in a cemetery. Vicki rolled her eyes and shoved his arm. "Yeah yeah whatever, now it's your turn. Are you two sleeping together or something?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Not even close," he answered. "I took a bite out of her a while back and killed her."

"She's a vampire?"

"Don't be stupid," he scolded. "She just doesn't die easily."

Vicki's mouth formed an "o" and she nodded, not entirely understanding, but not willing to risk looking like an idiot. "But you like her, don't you?"

"What is it with girls assuming everyone likes each other?" he asked himself. She shrugged a shoulder and smiled.

"You like her, I can tell," she said confidently. He rolled his eyes, but she didn't stop there. "You'd sleep with her if you got the chance, wouldn't you?"

"I'm not picky."

She huffed. "That's not what I meant." He shrugged, making it clear that he wasn't going to cooperate. "Fine, be that way, but just so you know, she's not gonna sleep with you."

"And you're telling me this because...?"

She ignored the comment and continued. "I mean, for a while, I thought she and Tyler had done it, but then we were talking one day and he let it slip that she never let him go all the way with her and they were together for like over a year- do you know how hard that is?"

"That was an impressive run-on sentence, but I call bull-shit on that one."

"I'm serious!" she insisted. "I mean, I thought it was weird that he didn't really know what to do when we did it, but I never would've thought he was a virgin until he told me!"

"I'm not sure if you've gotten the hint, but I really don't want to hear about your sex life." She groaned and collapsed on her back.

"I'm just so **bored!**" she whined. He sighed and patted her head.

"Me, too."

This was going to be a _very_ long day.

* * *

Damon stepped out onto the front lawn after a couple of hours of Vicki-sitting. It was Halloween and the cold was setting in, but it didn't bother him much at all. The leather jacket he wore was more for appearances, and considering that Stefan was almost staked the night before, he was going to need every advantage he could get. The plan was to head into town and gather all of the information he could, starting at the Mystic Grill. He was relieved to find his car in its usual spot just as he'd asked for it, but as he made his way over, he caught sight of the psychic's Land Rover still parked where she'd left it the other night. When he reached the car door, he saw why.

Still dressed in the very same clothes she'd been wearing the night before, Mikaela was slumped over the steering wheel, hands hanging limply from the sides and her head leaning against the top. He could hear her steady breathing and knew that she was sleeping, but why she'd be sleeping in his car was beyond him. She had a perfect bed at her own home and in the boarding house as well as a perfectly functional car to take her to both places. She was a strange one, but he could only assume that after the day and night she'd had, she'd simply passed out at the wheel. After weighing the pros and cons of waking her up, he made a split-second decision and walked back to the house.

* * *

"_What do you think your father will say?"_

_Damon rolled over in the bed and raised a brow. "Before or after he disowns me from the family?" The one-room log cabin was empty and bare of furniture save for the bureau pushed against the opposite wall and the bed the lovers occupied. Beyond the single-paned windows it was a sunny day, but within it was another world entirely. No lights were on and all of the curtains were pulled shut, creating the cozy, intimate atmosphere the two craved. Elizabeth sighed and fidgeted with the bedsheets in worry. He groaned and pulled her to him, resting his head on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll be fine. All that matters is we're together."_

"_But I have nothing to offer you," she pressed. Even as he laid soft kisses along her neck in hopes to distract her, she stayed on point. "You have a family, an inheritance: a future. I've lost my honor and will be disowned once Mother dies. Miracle doesn't even have a father to depend on, so I'll have to give her away for adoption-"_

"_Nonsense," he muttered. "She'll live with us, and we'll be happy." He combed her hair away from her neck and cocked his head to the side. "You have a birthmark here, love."_

"_You don't listen to me," she stated with a very unladylike groan. _

"_On the contrary," he said, christening the new-found birthmark with a soft kiss. "I listened very attentively when you were speaking to me only several moments ago." He turned her over onto her back so he could see her face and smirked devilishly. "Do you wish for me to repeat what you said?" She glared at him and he grinned back, completely unaffected. Without any warning he started tickling her sides under the sheets, earning himself a cry of surprise._

"_Damon, stop!" she exclaimed, trying to push away his hands. He ignored her and she struggled to escape, only to have him pull her back onto the mattress and continue with the torture. Finally his efforts paid off and she began to laugh. "Fine, fine, I surrender!" she cried out between breaths. When he stopped, she pushed him back and threw a leg over him to sit on his stomach. "Now you're trapped," she stated victoriously._

"_And what would you like as a reward?" he asked suggestively. She pinned his hands above his head and leaned down, pressing her lips against his. He eagerly responded and pulled his hands out of their holds so he could hold her body closer. She smiled into the kiss and he nicked her bottom lip playfully. "You're positively evil," she murmured, tangling her hands in his hair. They kissed like that for several minutes but had to part to catch their breath. For a while neither said anything; they didn't look at the clock and neither dared mention that their time together was almost up._

"_You're right," Damon finally said, staring up at the ceiling. She curled into his side to show that she was listening. "I do have all those things. A family, a future." He turned to her with a serious look on his face and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're my family. You're my future." She looked back at him with distressed green eyes and he laid a hand against her cheek. "I love you now, and I always will."_

_There was doubt in her face but he saw the longing to believe him. Finally she closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. "I will love you forever," she promised. "Forever and more." He smiled and dropped his head to smell her hair._

"_Mrs. Elizabeth Salvatore," he mused. "I like the sound of it." She couldn't hold back the smile and lifted her face to kiss him happily._

* * *

Damn vampires.

Damn muscle cars.

Damn car-stealing vampires all to hell.

Mikaela was fuming as she drove through town, eyes peeled for any sign of her beloved Land Rover. After leaving Tyler the night before, she'd gone back to the boarding house with every intention of leaving the car, packing her bags and then heading home. At some point between parking and getting out of the car, however, it seemed biology had taken over and knocked her out. While sleeping, the supernatural had decided to take her for a spin and nosedived her into a very explicit dream of Elizabeth and Damon making love in her brother's cabin.

Once she caught sight of her car obnoxiously parked in front of the Mystic Grill she pulled over and parked in the back, cursing when the bumper scraped against a speed bump she took too quickly. She parked it far from any other cars (she didn't have enough money to pay for a new paint job) and got out, slamming the door shut. A nice October chill had permanently settled on the town, so as a breeze picked up she pulled her jacket tighter around her. She'd gotten changed before leaving the boarding house into a burgundy sweater-vest over a gray button-up long-sleeve and pulled on her most comfortable pair of brown boots, but even that covered with a thick brown jacket didn't warm her.

Pushing open the door to the Grill, Mikaela gave a silent prayer of thanks that the Sheriff wasn't around. Even if she'd gotten a good amount of sleep in Damon's car, she didn't have the energy to lie about Vicki's whereabouts; considering their violent history, it'd be no surprise if the Sheriff decided to question her. Damon was, as always, seated at the bar with a glass of bourbon. Mikaela set her jaw as she took off her jacket and started towards him, a woman with purpose. He looked at her with a raised brow as she sat on the stool next to him. "Shouldn't you be at school learning something?" he asked, swirling his drink in his hand.

"I would have gone if somebody hadn't stolen my car," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Give me my keys."

"Wow, looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of my car this morning," he muttered. "You looked all cute and non-violent, drooling on the steering wheel. I'm not so heartless that I'd wake a girl up."

"No, you're just evil enough to steal my car."

"Borrow," he clarified. She rolled her eyes and asked the bartender for a glass of water, already realizing it'd be a while before he surrendered her keys. It normally took him a couple of drinks to be even remotely nice. "So, to get back on subject, what's up with you and the Lockwood kid?" he asked innocently. "You two looked so _cozy_ last night, kissing against my car..."

"Nothing," she answered tightly, cutting him off before he could continue. The last thing she needed was Damon teasing (or threatening) her about Tyler.

"Really?" he said doubtfully. The bartender brought her her water then and she gratefully squeezed the lemon wedge provided to avert her gaze.

"Yes, really," she said. "We used to date, but it didn't work out."

"A little bird told me you two did more than date."

She felt her stomach clench and turned to him, barely concealing her annoyance. "What did Vicki tell you?" He smirked.

"Our new little friend told me that a year or two back, _somebody _did a bit of misbehaving with her boyfriend after homecoming," he said coyly, gauging her reaction. "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

"Bullshit." She felt the initial worry wear off to know that he was making it up. "Try fishing for information with a better catch line."

"So Vicki was right?" he pressed. Not wanting to tell him more than he needed to know, she stayed quiet. He whistled under his breath. "Wow, you really are a saint. Together for over a year, and not _once..._!"

"Oh shut up," she snapped. "You don't know anything."

"Enlighten me."

"I am _not_ discussing my sex life, and most definitely not with you, of all people," she stated flatly.

"Oh, why not?" he urged. "Come on, tell me all about the way you just found Tyler Lockwood too unattractive to sleep with, or maybe about how his lack of size was too disappointing for you to continue."

"I'll have you know that I've always found him very attractive," she said calmly, twirling the ice in her glass around. "But like I said, I don't want to talk about that with-"

"So what would you like to talk about?" She gasped when he stood up suddenly, one hand on the bar and the other on the back of her chair, effectively trapping her in her seat. "You know, I am actually a_ very_ good person to talk to," he said quietly. His face was only inches away from hers and, when he leaned in, she felt the hairs on her neck rise. "We can go talk in your car, if you want. There's plenty of room..."

"Stop." The word was out of her mouth as quickly as she bolted out of her chair. Her cheeks were flaming and she felt her hand shake as she grabbed her jacket off the bar. "I'm not playing any of those games with you, Damon Salvatore." Not waiting for a response, she hurried to the exit, head held high and fists clenched tightly at her sides. Within seconds she was standing outside of his car, but unable to hold the key steady enough to unlock the door. After three attempts she gave up and sat down against the door to collect herself.

She wouldn't let her.

Mikaela didn't know how often Elizabeth possessed her or why, but she knew that there was no way she would have normally felt excited by his attention. Hell, it had taken this long for her to even acknowledge that he was good-looking. Maybe it was far-fetched for her to consider that a 145-year-old ghost was to blame for the temptation she'd just felt, but it was her only explanation. She needed to talk to Benji to find out what was going on, and soon.

Once she finally managed to unlock the car, Mikaela made a split-second decision to head to a costume store one town over. It was too late to consider going to school and the Halloween party was in a couple of hours; after everything that had happened, there was no way she'd be recycling her vampire costume from the yer before. Anyways, it would be good to get out of town for a little while.

Out of town and away from Damon.

As if he'd been summoned, a vampire dropped into the passenger seat just as she closed her door behind her. "Grand theft auto, I like it!" Mikaela jumped at Benji's sudden appearance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she exclaimed, holding a hand to her chest. "How did you-?"

"I followed you here," he answered simply. "Figured that after last night, you'd want some safety in numbers. Where are we going?"

She ran her hands along the steering wheel and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Costume Emporium," she finally said, starting the car. "I'm gonna have a Halloween full of scary fun, even if it kills me."

On the drive to the costume mega-store Benji started answering questions.

"So, you and Elizabeth were twins." Out the corner of her eye, she saw him nod.

"Yep. We were the children of an extra-marital affair our mother had with a merchant," he explained. "Well, I say merchant, but he was simply a high-ranked slave, Benjamin Bennett."

"We're related to the Bennett's?"

"Yep. Elizabeth was a pure-blooded witch from both our father and mother. The magic skipped them and didn't get me, but it definitely got her." He held up his hand to show her a thin white scar. "When we were younger we made a blood promise to never be apart. That was one of her first spells."

"That's what I saw in my vision," she said, remembering the two children with extreme clarity. "What did the spell do?"

He gestured to himself. "It made me into this when she killed herself." She cocked her head to the side as she pulled onto the highway, not understanding. "The first spell made it so that nothing would separate us, be it natural or supernatural. When she killed herself, she killed me, as well, but the curse she cast over her death brought us back. I was brought back as a vampire while she lived on through the spell."

"'Lived on'?"

"She swore to come back." Mikaela felt the hairs on her arms prickle and quickly changed the subject.

"So you're a normal vampire?"

He shook his head and held up both of his hands to show that they were bare. "I don't need an ugly ring to walk in the sun," he began. "A wooden stake to the heart heals just like anything else, and while blood does make me stronger, I don't need it to survive. Oh, and in my opinion, vervain tastes delicious in tea."

She raised her brows. "So you got all the perks and none of the downsides," she concluded. He considered the comment before shaking his head.

"Not necessarily. It's hard to control the killing instincts," he admitted. "You're safe because you're my sister, but I've done some things I'm not proud of."

"Lucky me."

He smirked and turned on the radio, settling with a country music station.

"So why exactly did she cast a curse to make everyone forget?" she asked after several minutes of listening to the music. He didn't answer immediately, but when he did, she could feel the dark sadness in his voice.

"The curse isn't responsible for that. Katherine Pierce and Emily are." At Mikaela's expectant look, he chuckled. "Long story made short, one day everything is fine and dandy, and the next day nobody remembers who were are, not even our parents. The only one who recognized us was little Miracle, and she was hardly two years old." A shadow crossed over his eyes. "Katherine wanted Elizabeth out of the picture for some reason, so she made Emily cast a spell. Because of our blood bond, I got pulled into the spell, too. Nobody recognized us, but when Damon didn't recognize Elizabeth, she cracked; she said she couldn't live in a world without him. She asked Emily for help, and because she was family, she did all that she could. Once she died, the spell was lifted and everyone without vampire blood suddenly remembered her as a bastard child and buried her on unholy ground.

"I don't know the details of the curse, but once it's broken, Elizabeth will supposedly come back to a world where Damon remembers her," he finished. "Damon and Stefan don't remember anything about her, still. Unfortunately, Elizabeth's grimoire was burned in Fell's Church, so all I know is that the key to lifting the curse has to do with Damon and Katherine."

"That's why you let him out?"

"As much as I would have loved to see that dumb ass pay for what he put my sister through, yes, that's why I helped him escape."

"But what exactly _is_ the curse?" she pressed. "I read somewhere that she vowed to return and make the town pay for ostracizing-"

He waved a hand, making her stop. "Some historian found some documents and made up a story," he stated. "Nobody knows what the curse is, just that it exists. From what Emily told me, though, she's locked in her body and communicates with her living blood relatives from time to time."

"But wouldn't that be considered a spell, not a curse?"

He shrugged. "I told you, I'm no witch. That was Elizabeth's forte. Hey, next time she communicates with you, you should ask," he said jokingly.

"Yeah, what's up with that? She made me make out with Damon," she said, sticking out her tongue in disgust. "Don't mean to be rude, but your sister has terrible taste in men." He rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, I won't judge you for feeling attracted to him," he said reassuringly. "I think that's something the Knight women have to deal with."

She stared at him, waiting for him to laugh at her or say the punch line. He didn't. "Seriously?"

"Yup." She busied herself with changing lanes to pull into an exit. He smirked, but she made it a point to ignore him. "You've got the hots for Damon," he said in a sing-song voice. She glared at him and he laughed. "Don't worry, it's perfectly natur-"

"There's nothing natural about it," she snapped. "With all due respect, I'm not letting my great-great-whatever grandmother rule my love life!" He held up his hands in defense and tried to suppress his laughter.

"Alright, alright!" he exclaimed. "I'm just saying it's happened every time one of you guys runs into him: interest leads to attraction and attraction leads to sex."

She tightened her jaw. "Please don't tell me you're gonna give me 'the talk' now."

"Nope."

"Good."

He chuckled under his breath. "So, have you heard from Diane?" he asked, opening a whole new jar of uncomfortable subjects. She shook her head.

"Not since that night at the cafe," she answered. His brows automatically furrowed.

"They don't have phones in South America?" he said incredulously. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and cleared her throat.

"No, she has her phone. We just don't talk."

"Are you two fighting?"

"No."

"Then what's-?"

"Look, no offense, but I don't want to talk about my mom right now," she interrupted, unable to hold it back anymore. "It's public information that my mom has been traveling since the fire four years ago. Let's just conclude the conversation with me saying that my mother and I don't talk much, okay?"

After an awkward silence, he nodded. The rest of the ride was relatively calm, filled with stories from Benji's life as an EMT and talk about the songs playing on the radio. At Costume Emporium, the pair had fun scouring the emptying racks for a costume; in the end they were able to come to an agreement on her costume and ate burgers at a local diner. At four o'clock they drove back to Mystic Falls, each tactfully avoiding subjects that had anything to do with vampire brothers, teenage druggies turned vampire or absent mothers.


	15. Bending to the Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

**Aaah, finally, the Halloween episode! I was so nervous to get this chapter out, but what with this flu I have right now, writing is the only thing keeping my mind off of being sick. Also, the reviews I received last chapter made me want to get this out ASAP- thanks for the continuous support, guys ^_^! **

**To answer some questions:**

**-No, Damon and Mikaela did not have sex; he was just joking and trying to scare her. The most she did was kiss him.**

**-Damon is not Miracle's father- that would make this story worse than incestuous .!**

**

* * *

****That Night:**

Bonnie had been standing at the "magic cauldron" at the Mystic Falls Halloween party for half an hour when she finally spotted something worth looking at. The party was in full swing with teens milling around dressed up as everything from zombies to Disney characters to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. One of the teachers had even donated a couple of fog machines and they were all running on full-power outside. Clad in the witch's outfit that Caroline had picked out for her, Bonnie absentmindedly mixed the potion and stared at the boy who had caught her attention like no other present.

He seemed to be in his early twenties and had a tall, perfectly muscular build. He wore a bloody military uniform with torn pants and a muscle shirt underneath the open jacket, giving just enough of a peek at a toned chest to let Bonnie's mind go wild. Because of the eerie lighting the whole school had taken on, it was impossible to tell what color his eyes were and if the tan she swore she saw was simply another figment of her imagination. He leaned against a lamppost with his thumbs looped lazily from his front pockets, and when he turned his head, she saw a bite mark on his neck made from fake blood.

It was beyond her how he could make even _that_ look sexy.

"Hey Bonnie, what's up?"

Bonnie was snapped out of her drooling by Mikaela's voice behind her. Expecting to see her wearing the same vampire costume she'd worn last year, she was surprised to instead see her fellow witch wearing a scarlet toga with a daring side-slit and sandals that wrapped all the way to her knees. She'd curled her hair and clipped part of it up so that it cascaded down her back, making her look stunning. "Wow, you look great," Bonnie said, looking her up and down. "Greek?" She lifted a shoulder and grinned.

"Spartan, but close enough. I fell in love with the costume the moment I saw it." Mikaela smiled and stepped back to take in Bonnie's witchy appearance. "Wow, finally accepted your destiny, huh?" she said jokingly. "I'll bet your Grams is proud. You look fantastic."

"Actually, she argues that our family never used ridiculous hats or had blonde hair," Bonnie admitted, rolling her eyes. Mikaela chuckled and shook her head.

"Good old Grams."

Bonnie narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously. "You seem to be in a very good mood. Are you drinking?" she probed. "Or is there somebody new that I should know about?"

Mikaela grinned. "Nah, I just had a good time today." She stepped next to her and poured herself a cup of punch. "So, you had your boy-gazing look on. Spill the beans, where's the Hottie?"

Bonnie blushed at being caught and looked up. Her heart skipped when she saw him purposefully walking in their direction. "Shut up, he's coming over here right now!" she whispered excitedly, busying herself with mixing the cauldron to hide her face. Mikaela looked up and grinned.

"Hey, it's been a while!" she exclaimed jokingly. Gesturing at his buzz cut, she added, "You got rid of you hair, huh?" The Hottie smiled and shrugged.

"I wanted to feel in character," he said. His eyes fell on Bonnie then. "I think an introduction's in order, Mikaela."

Mikaela gave Bonnie a knowing look and cleared her throat. "Alright, hold your horses. Bonnie, this is Benji, a friend of the family. Benji, this is Bonnie, one of my best friends."

Benji smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, planting a polite kiss there. "It's a pleasure," he said quietly, just loud enough for Bonnie to hear. She felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest, but she tried her hardest to keep her expression calm and friendly rather than giddy and obsessed. "It's Bonnie Bennett, right?"

"How'd you know?" she asked, internally flinching at how breathy she sounded. He winked.

"Lucky guess."

And that was the moment she was charmed.

* * *

Mikaela surveyed the party with with a content smile and sighed; Halloween had always been her favorite holiday, and this year's haunted house hadn't failed to disappoint. She was determined to have fun that night before November brought with it the reality that was Vicki Donovan. She felt she'd earned herself at least one night away from it all. Then again, with the banner in memorial to Coach Tanner hanging over the exit, it was hard to not think about the vampire that had killed both him and Vicki.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, Mikaela turned to Bonnie and Benji and cleared her throat. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm-" Mikaela suddenly choked on her words. Bonnie followed her gaze while Benji laughed, already catching on to the problem. Tyler approached them then, two plastic cups held in his hands.

"Wow, you two match," Benji said, tactfully stating the obvious about Tyler's Spartan uniform from the movie _300_. Tyler's eyes swept over Mikaela (of course lingering over some parts more than others) and he visibly swallowed. Mikaela tried to keep her thoughts away from their shared moment outside the Grill the day before, but it was difficult, especially considering his lack of clothing.

"Spartan, huh?" Tyler said conversationally. She waved a hand.

"Spartan, Greek, Roman, same difference," she lied casually. Benji looked like he wanted to say something, but Mikaela cut him off. "Are those for us?" she asked Tyler loudly, pointing at the cups he was holding. He smirked and held one out to her.

"Lockwood special," he said mischievously. She laughed and held up a hand.

"Actually, on second thought, no thanks. I've already done enough things to regret this week," she said. He offered it to Bonnie and she shook her head.

"My dad would kill me."

"I'll take that," Caroline quipped, joining the group. Mikaela laughed as Caroline took a dangerously large gulp.

"I'd forgotten that underage drinking was all the rage here in Mystic Falls," Benji commented. Caroline turned to him, finally noticing the stranger in their midst.

"And you are?"

"Benji, a legal drinker," he answered with a smirk. "Caroline Forbes, right?"

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Do you know my mom or something?"

Mikaela tuned them out as the flirting ensued. Tyler caught her eye and gave her a meaningful nod away from the group, a silent invitation to talk. Hiding her confusion, she excused herself and walked next to him. He led them toward the side of the building where the school buses were parked. Nobody was around, and as the sounds of the haunted house faded away, she felt the hairs along her arms stand up: solitude increased awareness, and she didn't think a repeat of the previous night was such a good idea.

"Is everything okay, Tyler?" she finally asked. He sat on a crate and finished his drink, setting the cup down. He motioned for her to sit next to him and she cautiously obliged. Distant shrieks could be heard from within the school, but for once, rather than alarm her, it made her feel calm: everything was right in the world.

"You look great." She turned her head to see that he was looking at her, eyes fixed on her body. She knew that look, and she knew it well. She gulped and cleared her throat, getting to her feet.

"Thanks Ty, but I think we can talk somewhere a little bit less secluded." She looked back at him, waiting for him to follow. He groaned and got up, walking towards her.

"I don't want to talk," he stated huskily. Before she could stop him, he pushed her against a school bus and leaned close. "I want to do other things..."

Mikaela held up her hands up against his chest, trying to hold him back. Her heart was racing and she could smell the alcohol on his breath; he wasn't himself. "Tyler, look, I-" He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the bus behind her, ridding himself of the barrier. She gasped and he swooped down, covering her mouth with his. Taking advantage of her surprise, he ran his tongue over her lip and deepened the kiss, urging her to give in. When she tried to squirm away, he pulled back a fraction of an inch.

"Mikaela, come on," he growled.

It had always been so hard to say no. It was cold outside and his mouth was so warm...

"Tyler, stop." She turned her head away and he started to kiss her neck. She growled and, with more strength than she thought she had, she pushed him back. "I mean it! Stop!" A confused, angry look crossed his face, but before he could say anything, they both heard it.

"Vicki, what the hell?" Jeremy yelled in alarm. The sounds of a struggle and both Vicki's and Jeremy's voices carried from several buses down. Mikaela felt her stomach drop and her mind switched into hyper-drive: get Tyler away, get to Jeremy and hold off Vicki until backup arrived. It didn't matter how the vampire got out, all that mattered was that she was already out and with zero control over her hunger.

"Go find Stefan or Damon," she ordered. "Now!"

She knew Tyler. He should have argued, but as if he were another person, he nodded and took off at a run. Not wasting any more time on wondering what was going on, she ran in the direction Jeremy's yells were coming from, bracing herself for what she would find. She was a witch, but if she was going to stand a chance against the vampire, she had to stay calm.

Jeremy was running for the door, hand reached out for the knob. In the blink of an eye Vicki appeared, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into a pile of crates like a rag doll. "Vicki, stop!" Mikaela yelled. The vampire had been walking toward Jeremy, but turned when she heard Mikaela's voice. Her eyes were a deep red with a terrifying darkness around them, only a slight reflection of the hunger she must have been holding back all day. She was dressed in a tacky vampire costume, something Mikaela was sure had seemed like a genius idea when she'd put it on. She bared her fangs and snarled, lunging forward.

Already prepared for the move, Mikaela held out her hand and summoned a rusty pipe that was strewn across the floor. She bent her knees and pulled back her arms, prepared to bring the pipe swinging down on Vicki the moment she got a good hold on it. Just as Vicki was only inches away from her and she brought her arms up to deal the blow, the unexpected happened.

Nothing.

She looked at her empty hands in horror, realizing in half a second that her spell hadn't worked. Running on instinct, she slipped to the side just in time, dodging Vicki. "Jeremy, run!" she yelled desperately. She grabbed a broomstick off the floor and broke it in two against her knee as she backed up, trying to put some distance between herself and the vampire. Jeremy was rubbing his head and getting out of the pile of crates when his eyes widened in horror.

"Vicki, no!" he exclaimed. Mikaela whorled around and Vicki reached out to grab her by her hair. In an attempt to dodge her, she fell back on the gravel and Vicki went down after her, mouth wide open to close down on her neck.

Suddenly Vicki stopped, a strangled sound escaping her throat as she held one hand to the floor to hold herself up and lifted the other hand to her stomach. For a moment neither of them moved, their eyes meeting as the situation registered. Mikaela felt the blood dripping down the half of the broomstick she'd shoved into the vampire's stomach and realized what she'd done. With a growl of fury Vicki grabbed Mikaela's neck and dug her nails into her skin, trying to strangle her and at the same time draw blood. At that moment, a switch flipped in Mikaela: this wasn't Vicki, a misguided teen; this was a vampire that needed to die.

It was kill or be killed.

Mikaela threw the vampire off of her and straddled her waist, grabbing the other half of the broomstick. Jeremy was yelling and she could even hear Elena crying out her name, but Mikaela didn't care about any of them. Vicki snarled and knocked the weapon out of Mikaela's hand, but Mikaela reacted even quicker than either of them could have expected. With the ease of someone who had practiced, she pulled the first part of the stick out of Vicki's stomach and lunged it into her chest, tightening her grip on the wood when she felt the crunch of it passing through the rib cage. Vicki gasped and reached up to the makeshift stake, eyes wide with horror.

"Goodbye, Vicki."

Mikaela closed her eyes before the death could consume Vicki's face, but she both heard and felt the life leaving her as she died. She rested her head on the smooth end of the stake and breathed through her mouth, tasting vampire blood on her lips. She hadn't even realized some of the vampire's blood had splashed on her face during the fight. At any other time and in any other place, it would have been disgusting to her; then and there, it was simply a part of the fight. Jeremy was crying out for Vicki and Elena was trying to calm him down, but Mikaela couldn't bring herself to move. Not even a full minute passed before a hand fell on her shoulder, and without looking, she knew it was Stefan.

"Mikaela, she's dead. Let's go," Stefan urged, using her elbow to lift her up. She jerked away from him and shook her head, refusing to move.

"Don't touch me," she whispered. Nobody tried to move her anymore, and for that she was grateful. She wasn't ready to face the world she'd just created.

* * *

By the time Damon arrived on the scene where Vicki had been killed, Stefan had gone to take Jeremy back to the house. Luckily for all of them, the area was considerably secluded from the rest of the party and no couples had decided to make out in the shadows of the buses. In his phone call, Stefan hadn't given him many details about what had happened or what to expect, simply that Elena and Mikaela would be waiting for him. When Damon finally caught sight of the body between two buses, he could tell why.

Vicki was thrown flat on her back and Mikaela sat on her, kneeling forward so that her head laid against the stake in the vampire's heart. Her breathing was steady, but if the irresistible scent of her blood was any indication, she wasn't completely unharmed. From what he could see, her elbows were scraped raw as well as her knees. He let out a whistle as he took in the strange scene and shook his head. Elena had been sitting on a box and staring at Vicki and Mikaela, but when she heard him, she shot to her feet.

"You...!" she growled, furiously. Barely suppressed tears threatened to spill at any moment. "This is your fault!"

"Let's not point fingers here, Elena," he warned. "Mikaela staked Vicki."

"You turned her!" she pressed, advancing forward. "Is this some sort of game to you?"

"Now Elena..." He was cut off when she slapped him across his left cheek. He hardly felt it, but even so, the blow activated the hunter in him. He clenched his teeth and reined in the hunger, pulling his eyes away from the pool of blood that had formed around Vicki's corpse. He looked at Elena and saw that the tears had finally spilled.

"You killed her, and you know it," she hissed. "You killed Mikaela in August, and she's never coming back." Damon wasn't sure at what point the conversation had switched from talking about all he'd done to Vicki to all he'd done to Mikaela, but as his brother's girlfriend looked at him with the deepest kind of loathing, he realized she'd been holding it back for a long time. "Somewhere in you, that has to mean something!"

"None of this means anything to me," he stated. She looked like she wanted to hit him again, but he cut her off. "If you don't leave right now, I will drain what little blood is left in your neighbor there."

She opened her mouth to object, and then realized he was serious. Biting back her words, she crossed her arms and reluctantly walked away. He waited until her footsteps completely faded before turning to the task at hand. During the whole exchange, Mikaela hadn't said a word or moved a muscle; obviously, the shock was great. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Alright Buffy, you can go," he announced. "I've got this." When she didn't move, he rolled his eyes and stepped forward. "Mikaela, come on. Get off of her, it's gross." She started to mutter something, but he couldn't hear her clearly. With a growl of impatience, he grabbed her by her arm and jerked her to her feet. "I said-!"

"It should have been you!"

The girl yelled the statement into his face with everything in her. He gave her a stony look and she grit her teeth angrily, not even trying to control the shaking in her body. "This is all your fault!" she continued. "You kill everything without caring what it does to anybody!"

"Unless I'm imagining things, I'm not the one that killed Vicki," he said coldly. "You did that without me forcing you."

"I didn't have a choice," she spat. "She was going to kill Jeremy."

"Come on, Elena's gone. You don't have to pretend to care about Jeremy," Damon stated. "You killed her because you wanted to."

"No, I didn't!" she retorted. "I'm not like you!" She jerked her arm out of his hold and stepped back, chest rising and falling heavily with her anger. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, taking her in. Her hair was untamed and her eyes wild with the need to fight, an image only furthered by the blood splashed across her face. The Spartan outfit suited her: she wasn't a delicate flower that could be broken by the first obstacle to pass over it. Maybe she wasn't the strongest person in the world, but she was definitely a survivor. Despite that, she seemed to be reaching her limit of sanity and he couldn't predict what she'd do next.

The smell of her blood reached him again and he growled. "Go home," he ordered, tossing her her car keys. She looked back at Vicki and then at Damon, reality setting in. He sighed, not wanting to deal with the tears and confused emotions that were sure to follow. "Mikaela, go home."

"I killed her," she said slowly, blinking several times as if to try and clear her vision. "I killed Vicki Donovan." Damon moved in front of her at vampire speed, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to meet his eyes. The girl was in shock, and the last thing he needed was for her to freak out once he left to bury the body.

"No, Vicki ran away," he corrected. "You saw her hitch a ride out of town with a junkie friend. You will _not _mention this to anybody, do you understand?"

She shook her head, eyes still glassy. "I know, I know," she muttered quietly. "Nobody can know. It's just-"

"What happened?" Benji was suddenly next to him. Damon internally groaned: another person demanding answers. The strange vampire irritated him to no end with his cryptic messages and ulterior motives, and now it seemed that he'd taken it upon himself to be Mikaela's personal protector. He took in the scene with a single glance and turned to Damon accusingly. "Damon, what-?"

"Look, she's in shock," Damon interrupted, handing Mikaela over to him. "Take her home and make sure she doesn't do anything stupid." With that, he bent down and picked up the corpse, already deciding to hide it by the river. He needed to get rid of it before anybody started looking for her and came across the scene.

* * *

Not even an hour later Damon found himself on Elena's doorstep. The sounds of Jeremy's sobs could be heard loud and clear with his heightened vampire senses, but even more clearly he could hear Elena pleading with Stefan to erase her little brother's memory. He wasn't sure what had brought him to her house of all places; could it be that he actually felt guilty about what he'd done to Vicki? Clearing his throat, he made his presence known.

"I can do it," he stated. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm or humor in his tone to indicate that he was anything but deathly serious, and when Elena met his gaze, he could tell that she believed him. She nodded, accepting his offer.

"Please. I don't want him to remember anything about what happened," she said, crossing her arms. He could tell that even she was reaching her limit, so he was careful not to push her too far.

"Vicki left town, then," he concluded. She nodded again. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but determination entered her eyes and she set her jaw. "Yes, I'm certain," she said firmly. "It's for the best."

He didn't offer his opinion on that statement, instead settling for walking in through the front door. Finding Jeremy's room was easy enough and compelling him was even easier; the diet of bagged human blood wasn't the most appetizing, but at least it kept him strong enough to compel without any problems. When he'd finished brainwashing Jeremy's pain away, he ordered him to go to sleep and walked out of the room.

Just as he closed the bedroom door behind him, another down the hall opened. Benji stepped out of Elena's room with a stony expression on his face. He'd abandoned the military jacket and now only wore the pants and undershirt, revealing his muscular build. Damon eyed him warily; although the last time they'd fought, he'd been starving and Benji had had the obvious advantage, he had the feeling that the vampire was stronger than he let on. The strange vampire looked up and met his gaze, barely concealed anger shining behind his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, keeping his voice low. Damon narrowed his eyes, not appreciating the accusation in his voice.

"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back. "I told you to take Mikaela home."

A shadow crossed Benji's eyes. "I tried," he answered stiffly, shutting the door behind him. "She didn't want to go into her house."

Damon furrowed his brows. "And she wanted to come here instead?" he said doubtfully. It struck him as strange that she would rather be in a house that he could enter than in one that he hadn't been invited into. Benji shook his head.

"No. She just didn't try to kill me when I brought her here," he muttered. Damon held back a smirk at the image of her trying to stake him; after only a second, he allowed his smirk to be seen. A short silence passed before Benji spoke up again. "You just compelled Jeremy."

"What about it?" Damon challenged, crossing his arms. Benji seemed to hesitate before answering.

"I want you to compel Mikaela." Damon tried to conceal his surprise, but it was almost impossible.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" he asked, genuinely curious. Benji scowled.

"Because I've already erased enough from her memory," he answered reluctantly. "I can't do it."

"What did you erase?" he pressed. Any information against the mysterious character would be useful, especially considering he still couldn't be sure if he was a friend or an enemy. Benji glared at him, seemingly catching on to his motive behind the questions. He took a deep breath and crossed his arms as well, clearly not comfortable with sharing anything with Damon.

"The night that I broke you out of the basement, I compelled her to go home and I erased Zack Salvatore," he finally admitted. "She remembers living with him, but the memories don't mean anything to her anymore. With everything she's been through, his death would have broken her."

Damon stared at him, then let out a low whistle. "Wow, not such a boy scout, are you?" He chuckled and walked over to Benji, enjoying the annoyance on his face. "You were worried she'd hate you, huh?" When he was standing next to him, he placed a hand on his shoulder in mock reassurance. "Don't worry, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Benji forced through tight lips.

"With one condition."

A vein throbbed in Benji's neck. "What condition?" he asked, tightening his fists. Damon looked him up and down, recording the image permanently in his memory: it felt good to get under his skin.

"I just want an answer to a simple question," he said casually, pulling away from him and leaning against the wall.

"What do you want to know?" he pressed, patience running thin. Damon pretended to think for a moment before answering.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he finally asked, eyes fixed intently on Benji for his reaction.

Benji heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Mikaela could have told you that," he said, shaking his head as he walked away. He stopped at the head of the staircase and looked back up at Damon, a shadow covering his eyes. "I'm Elizabeth Knight's twin brother, Benji Knight. I'm here because the girl in that room is the only thing I have left to live for, and if you want even the slightest chance of getting Katherine back, you will do as I say and protect her, even if it's from herself." Giving him a nod of goodbye, he left.


	16. Honey, I'm Home

**Author's Note:**

**Wow, the enthusiasm of your responses was amazing! Thanks so much for the feedback and continual support guys, it means so much! Especially considering the fact that I'm waiting VERY patiently for Vampire Diaries to resume Jan. 27... *grumbles* **

**On a more personal note, college starts again next week. Is it weird for me to be excited? Ha ha, I can't wait to start doing my work in the hospital...! **

**And on a story-related note, I'm working on the soundtrack for the story. The list is heavily under construction on my profile, and I would just LOVE IT if you guys helped it come together with song suggestions! There are also links to the original characters' celebrity look-alikes ^_^ If anyone felt the undying need to make a banner or something, it would also be posted... *hint* *hint***

**On with the chapter...**

* * *

Some things are broken before you even get the chance to touch them.

As Damon stepped into the room and quietly closed the door, he looked at the girl sitting on Elena's bed and wondered at what point she had broken. Had it been when she was taken away from her parents? When Vicki had stolen Tyler? After the car accident? Or had it been when he'd killed her?

Her costume was torn and filthy, but what truly caught his attention had nothing to do with her apparel; it was her face. Blood had dried over her cheeks- Vicki's blood- and her own blood was smeared lightly across her neck from what looked to be claw marks. Tears had formed clean trails through the dust from her fight, but no tears could be seen in Mikaela's eyes as she stared up into space, arms wrapped softly around her knees where she rested her chin.

Damon sat on the edge of the bed next to her. The mattress sank enough that her elbow prodded softly against his back, but she made no move to break the contact or touch him any more. He'd expected her to start yelling at him like she had at the school; contrary to his expectations, she didn't even seem to notice him sitting there. It looked like she was stargazing at Elena's ceiling, searching for an answer in the celestial beings only she could see.

"What do you want?"

So she did notice him. He waited for a moment to see if she'd look at him, but she didn't tear her eyes away from whatever it was she was looking at, nor did she make any move of welcome. "The paramedic sent me here to check on you," he answered. She gave a miniscule nod to show that she heard.

"Benji's an EMT, Damon," she reminded him. "If you can't remember that by now, then maybe you should talk to a doctor about your memory issues. It's enough that you don't remember your own fiancee." He didn't say anything. She cocked her head to the side, but still didn't look at him. "Then again, I suppose that to a vampire, the health care system's ladder would seem unimportant," she murmured, seemingly more to herself than to him. "I do wonder why you told Benji you'd erase my memory when the last time I checked, your compulsion doesn't work on me."

Her voice was calm, much too calm for a girl who'd overheard two vampires discussing which memories she could keep and which had already been taken away. "Well..." He paused before answering. "He did it somehow, compelling you to go home the other night and forget about how much Zack mattered. I figured it was worth a shot."

"In other words, you tricked him," she concluded in that same eerily calm voice. "I also wonder about why he's come here now of all times, but he hasn't told me. I just figured that if my mom trusted him, it's for a reason." She blinked and changed the subject. "You tried to make me kiss you yesterday and it didn't work. That was because I've had you blocked since our fight in Elena's kitchen." She sighed then and lowered her gaze, finally looking at him- at his shoulder, at least. "Don't worry, I've lost my powers," she admitted quietly. "You aren't blocked anymore."

A whole minute passed before she met his eyes, dark brown looking up at him from beneath thick lashes and between stray locks of hair. He lifted a hand and pushed her hair back, giving him a clear view of her face. She didn't even blink at his touch, simply stared at him, waiting.

"Do you want to forget?" he asked. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.

"Do I have a choice?"

* * *

Stefan listened from the porch, shocked by the exchange he overheard going on in Elena's room. Elena sat next to him, shivering despite the thick blanket thrown over her shoulders. "How much longer will it take?" she asked, the slightest hint of hesitation in her voice.

"He already finished," Stefan answered, hearing footsteps coming down the stairs. He knew she referred to Damon erasing Jeremy's memory, something he was relieved to have heard was done successfully. "Right now he's with Mikaela." Her eyes widened with alarm.

"Is that a good idea?"

The question had hardly left her mouth when the front door opened and Damon stepped out. He gave Elena a quick nod to let her know that he'd done what he'd promised to. "He won't remember a thing about what happened. If anyone asks him about Vicki, he'll tell them she ran away. We'll all stick to that story," he said, and to Stefan's surprise, he also directed it to someone standing inside the doorway. Damon held out a hand and Mikaela stepped out of the house, placing her hand in his for support. "We'll see you two tomorrow."

"Where are you taking her?" Elena exclaimed, getting to her feet. Mikaela looked at her neighbor and smiled softly, only alarming her further. Her face and neck were clean, but she still looked a mess, albeit less of a mess than when Benji had literally carried her into the house an hour or so earlier.

"I'm taking her home," Damon answered calmly, leading the girl down the front steps. "She shouldn't be alone tonight."

"But should she be with you?" she pressed, stepping forward.

Stefan held her back. "I'll keep an eye on her," he said quietly, keeping his eyes focused on his brother as he led the girl to her Land Rover. He opened the passenger seat and closed the door behind her, pulling the keys out of his pocket. "I don't know what he wants with her, but I'll make sure she's safe."

"Like you did for Vicki?" Elena muttered, pulling away from him. Stefan felt like she'd slapped him, but tried not to let it show: he deserved it for letting Vicki get away. Even so, she closed her eyes for a moment as if she regretted her words. "I just don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Neither do I," Stefan agreed. He had to hold back the urge to reach out and comfort her, and when she looked at him, he could tell that she wanted to be comforted, too. She'd broken up with him the day before after the Vicki incident, but even so, he could see in her eyes that she still had feelings for him. The sound of Mikaela's car roaring to life brought them both back to reality, and with a worried glance at the car, Elena turned around and walked back into her house.

* * *

Damon walked up the stairs to Mikaela's apartment. The sound of the shower running filled his ears, letting him know that the coast was clear to get rid of the rest of the evidence. The hall between the bathroom and her bedroom was short, but the acoustics of it allowed him to hear if she turned the shower off. Everything in her bedroom was just they'd left it. The covers on the bed were a mess from their fight the day before and some laundry hung over the edge of the laundry basket. He caught sight of her scarlet costume thrown haphazardly in the waste bin by the bed along with the sandals. Not wasting time, he grabbed the waste bin and ran outside at vampire speed, dumping its contents into the dumpster. By the time he came back, she'd left the bathroom and was in her room getting dressed.

Satisfied, Damon made his way to the parlor and poured himself a drink. The smell of her blood had awakened the hunger in him, and what with the coach and junkies he'd eaten the other day, he needed to start weening himself off of fresh blood and getting back into the habit of drinking the bagged stuff. Needless to say, it was difficult, especially with a perfectly healthy human walking around his home. He heard her bedroom door open, followed by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Bracing himself, he downed his drink and poured a refill.

Mikaela wandered into the parlor, her bare feet almost inaudible in the large room. Damon turned around and looked her over with approval. Completely bathed and clad in dark pajamas pants with a mid-waist length camisole, there was no trace of the night's incident save for the light scratches on her neck and a bruise on her arm. She'd put on the brace he'd bought her, giving him the impression that she'd hurt it during the struggle. All in all, she looked much better.

"How do you feel?" he asked, masking the apprehension. She looked around the parlor to drink it in before answering.

"Been better," she answered, her voice somewhat hoarse. "If my wrist still hurts tomorrow, I'm gonna have to get it checked out. Other than that, I just have a killer headache."

"Makes sense," he reasoned, setting down his drink. He went to the kitchen and fetched two aspirin from Zack's medicine cabinet and a glass of water from the tap. When he got back to the parlor she was still standing in the same spot, arms crossed as she looked around as if she were in the room for the first time. She gratefully accepted the painkillers and downed them faster than he thought humanly possible. "Those are going to put you to sleep for a couple of hours."

"Good." The enthusiasm in her voice spoke more than what she actually said, but she didn't elaborate any further. After finishing the rest of the water, she handed the glass back to him. "Thank you."

"No problem." She nodded in good bye and turned around to leave, but stopped.

"Benji killed Zack, right?" she asked quietly. Damon considered his answer carefully, not wanting her to break down crying in front of him; headaches, hangovers and spiritual possession he could deal with. A crying girl was a little more difficult.

"Zack was about to stake him," he said reasonably. "He was just defending himself." She nodded, accepting the information. "It was quick, if that's any consolation."

"Not really," she admitted, "but thanks anyways." A short silence passed. "Damon, do you-?"

He sighed and dropped his head back, cutting her off. "Don't make me regret not erasing your memory," he warned. He had a feeling she was going to mention Vicki, and he didn't want to hear anything else about the girl. "The paramedic might try and finish the job, and then I won't hear the end of it."

She silenced and looked over at him. He looked back at her and was surprised by the relief he felt: she didn't look as empty as she had before. Obviously she wasn't completely back to normal. Her eyes were still slightly swollen from crying and she was an unhealthy shade of white, but knowing her, she'd be better by the end of the week. She was familiar with death, and once the shock of killing somebody for the first time wore off, she'd realize that defense was not the same thing as murder. Either way, he'd compelled away any suicidal tendencies, so he didn't have to worry about the trauma leading her to kill herself.

Mikaela started to walk away, wincing slightly at the action. It wouldn't have surprised him if she had more injuries than he could see at first glance, but she quickly recovered, indicating that there was nothing too severe going on. She cleared her throat and made her way across the parlor. He watched her, wondering to himself just why he'd chosen to help her.

Her block against his compulsion was down. Why didn't he simply compel her to do whatever he said? Why did he spare her her memory? Why just settle with, "You won't, under any circumstances, try to kill yourself."? Did he care for her, on some level? That was a strange thought.

Once he heard the squeak of her settling into bed, Damon dispelled such strange contemplations and made his way to bed.

**

* * *

**

**The Next Day:**

Hospitals, Mikaela was familiar with.

Police stations? Not so much. Even after the fire, Social Services and the detective on her family's case had always gone to her for questioning, never the other way around. It took everything inside her to not bounce in place as Sheriff Forbes clasped her hands in front of her and narrowed her eyes, analyzing Mikaela's reactions.

"So you're telling me that you saw Vicki Donovan get in a car with some guy?" she repeated doubtfully. Mikaela nodded, trying her best to keep a straight face. "Was she acting strange at all?"

"She seemed sober," she supplied with a shrug. "The guy looked older, but I didn't recognize him. That's all I know, Sheriff; the Halloween party was kinda crazy."

"I can imagine," the woman muttered. Underage drinking was always an issue when October came around. Looking down at her notes, she heaved a sigh. "Well, I think that's it, Miss Greene. If you hear of anything..."

"I'll be sure to contact you," she assured her, grabbing a card off the desk. Relieved that the interrogation was over, she turned around to escape.

"Hold on a second, Miss Greene."

Mikaela internally groaned before turning back to the Sheriff. "Yes?" she asked sweetly. The Sheriff motioned for her to sit again, and with reluctance, Mikaela obliged.

"I want to discuss something of a more... private nature," she said. "I would like to make it clear that what I'm about to talk to you about isn't to be discussed outside this room. I'm trusting you because your father assured me that you are a very capable young woman and I consider you to be mature for your age."

Not left with any other choice, Mikaela nodded. "I understand, Sheriff. Is everything okay?"

The blonde woman got to her feet and looked out the window, most likely a reflex from being a cop for so long. Once she felt secure, she leaned her hands onto the desk and met Mikaela's eyes. "I'm sure that you know your father was an active member of the Founder's Council before the accident," she began, her voice faltering on the word 'accident'. The two of them had been very close friends even if Mikaela's mother had never liked her. Mikaela nodded in confirmation. "Did he ever tell you what was the purpose of the Council?"

"To protect the town," she answered automatically. "I know the Council delved into the supernatural somewhat because they used my father's visions, but he never explained why."

"Have you heard of the recent animal attacks?"

Mikaela scoffed. "Yeah, who hasn't?" she muttered despite herself. "Bodies drained of blood, apparently because of a mountain lion."

"What's your theory?"

"Vampire."

Hitting the woman with a frying pan wouldn't have shocked her as effectively as that. Mikaela almost felt sorry for her, but Stefan had told her about how Logan Fell had tried to stake him, and putting two and two together hadn't been difficult: Logan Fell had been part of a secret council that relied on the visions of a psychic; Zack had also been part of said council, and he grew vervain in his basement; Sheriff Forbes was her father's best friend. After everything that had gone on since August, the Founder's Council being a society dedicated to protecting the town from vampires wasn't that strange of a concept to her anymore.

"Vampire?" the Sheriff repeated. Mikaela nodded and crossed her legs, making herself more comfortable.

"My father didn't bring me up to speed, but Uncle Zack did before he left," she lied smoothly. "My question is, why are you telling me?" The Sheriff seemed to hesitate before answering, seemingly surprised that the teenager knew so much.

"I wouldn't involve you if I hadn't run out of options," she began, "but Zack and Joseph told us that you inherited your father's... talent." She paused, unsure if the girl's psychic abilities were a delicate subject. When Mikaela didn't react, she continued. "We've been chasing this vampire for months and we just ran out of leads."

All Mikaela could do was stare. "You want me to take my father's place in the Founder's Council?" She didn't bother to mask the disbelief in her voice. The Sheriff took a deep breath, bracing herself.

"I know that it's a lot to ask, but you're not obligated to do anything," she said in complete honesty. "This knowledge is a great responsibility to bear, one I wouldn't impose on anybody. Your involvement would only be for as long as you wanted, and we'll be certain to keep it to a minimum-"

"I'll do it." Mikaela got to her feet and set her jaw, making it clear that she'd reached a decision.

"Are you certain?" she pressed, boring into Mikaela's eyes.

"I'm sure," Mikaela said quickly, holding up a hand. "I know it's dangerous, but this town's my home, too, and if there's anything I can do to protect it, I'll do it." She paused for a moment, remembering a very important detail. "I should let you know that I'm not as experienced as my father..."

"He left a journal of everything he did with us, which should work as something of a guide to tracking using your abilities," she said, pulling a thin leather-bound book out from her desk and handing it to her. "He planned to wait until you were out of college to tell you about this."

She couldn't help but smile as she put the journal into her purse: he'd always said that school came first. "I'll also need to know what information you guys already have and if you've recovered any physical traces of the vampire," Mikaela began, putting together a plan in her head. "I know it's easier for me to establish a link with someone if I have something of theirs."

"We don't have anything," the Sheriff admitted regretfully, "and unfortunately, we're back to square one where everyone who's arrived in the past several months is a suspect."

"That's a shame," she murmured, taking notes. "Are we sure it's just one vampire?"

"Up until now, yes," she confirmed.

"Good. It shouldn't take me too long to come up with something." Gathering her things, Mikaela cleared her throat. "Um, just so we're clear, this psychic thing isn't really something I want everyone to know about. It's not something I hide, but I don't want it publicized, either."

"We're keeping your involvement on a strictly need-to-know basis," she assured her. "Only a handful of us council members even knew about your father, so I'll be sure to make sure that it stays that way. Nobody expects anything of you."

"Thanks." She motioned at her written statement on the desk. "If anything, my number's there." With a small smile, she turned back to the door.

"Mikaela?" She paused and looked over her shoulder at the divorcee. The Sheriff smiled, gratefulness and relief exuding from her every pore. "Thank you. Your father was a very dear friend to me, and he always spoke well of you. If you need anything, please, don't hesitate to ask."

She wanted to leave the office then, go back home and figure out what to do next, but she couldn't. A dream had been haunting her since the night before, flashing behind her eyelids every time she closed her eyes or dozed off. If anything, the vision had helped scared away the shock of all that had happened with Vicki, but she couldn't hide it from the woman, not when she was looking at her with those thankful eyes. Biting her lip, Mikaela only considered for one more second before speaking.

"I keep seeing a female vampire with long, blonde hair." Mikaela didn't look at the Sheriff as she recounted the dream, instead keeping her eyes focused on the hall to make sure that nobody was listening. "She looks to be in her early twenties, and in the vision, she's marching forward to attack you. You shoot her several times with wooden bullets, but it doesn't do anything. Finally, she reaches you and leaves you mortally wounded before escaping."

She looked surprised at what Mikaela said, but blinked to compose her expression. "Is it the same vampire who attacked you that night?" she asked in a low voice. It was Mikaela's turn to be surprised. "I saw the bite marks on your neck in August. Several attacks had happened before then, so we were paying attention."

"I don't remember much from that night," she replied, using the same lie she'd used countless times. "I have the feeling it was a man, but I can't be too sure." Instinctively her hand went up to her neck where the scars were; even if they weren't as noticeable as the bite marks themselves, it had become a habit of hers to wear scarves and cover them up. That day she'd forgotten, and it made her feel strangely exposed. Clearing her throat, she stood up straighter and gripped the door knob again. "Just be careful during your night shifts, okay, Sheriff?"

"I'll be sure to," she answered, albeit somewhat distractedly. Good: if she was scared, she'd be more alert. With that, Mikaela pushed open the door and left the police station. She was the last of the group to be interrogated about Vicki, but as she walked out the front entrance she found Stefan waiting for her, hands stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against the wall. She stopped and looked at him questioningly.

"Waiting for someone?" she asked, resuming her descent down the steps. "Elena left a while ago, and from what I hear, she doesn't really want to see you."

"Actually, I was hoping to speak to you, Mikaela," he said, walking up beside her. "How are you holding up?"

"All things considered, I'm doing great," she answered sarcastically. "I staked a vampire last night, only to have the Sheriff ask for my help tracking down a vampire that coincidentally happens to be your brother, and now I have to worry about yet another homicidal vampire trying to take out the police force. It's a wonder I haven't gone postal yet."

"The Sheriff asked _you_ for help?" he repeated. Mikaela nodded, reaching into her purse for her keys. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her to watch out for the vampire that would try to kill her one of these nights and then I left." She walked up to her car and unlocked the doors. Stefan moved in front of her, stopping her from getting into the driver's seat. His expression was serious and she glared in challenge. "What do you want?"

"Why did you join the Founder's Council?"

Mikaela groaned and tried to move around him, but he didn't let her. Finally she crossed her arms and gave up. "Look, maybe you haven't caught onto this yet, but the Founder's Council is after you and your stupid brother," she snapped. "These people don't know that they don't stand a chance against Damon. If I can steer them in another direction, then maybe, just maybe, we can keep the casualties to a minimum."

"Is that the only reason?"

She gave him a deathly stare, and this time, when she tried to get into the car, he let her. Not meriting his question with a response, she slammed the door closed and drove off with a roar. She could see Stefan staring after her from the parking lot, but didn't allow herself to feel any guilt. It was her decision, something Stefan wouldn't understand- hell, she wasn't even sure that she fully understood.

Was there another reason? Of course there was. There was _always_ another reason.

The drive to her house was short, yet longer than she would have liked for it to be. She didn't want to go to the house, not with its Halloween decorations and empty hallways. Had it not been for the fact that she was running out of clothes at the boarding house, she wouldn't be going back at all.

She pulled up to her driveway and killed the engine, getting out with a sigh. It was getting harder and harder to see the house as her home; it was no wonder that when Benji had compelled her to go home, she'd gone to the boarding house instead. Even with Zack gone, it was the one place she'd always been able to feel safe. She'd thought that sleeping under the same roof as Damon would have kept her from sleeping, but strangely enough, it hadn't. She got out of the car and grabbed her bag of laundry before walking up to the front porch, keys in hand.

The door was already unlocked.

Mikaela froze, red flags going off in every possible way in her mind. She could sense two people in the house, so without waiting for them to find her standing out there, she dropped her bag by the door and quietly stepped in.

Voices drifted to her from the kitchen. While the tones of the man and woman were tense, there wasn't any hostility in the air. She'd expected to maybe hear somebody rummaging through the cabinets, ransacking the house, or maybe even graffitti on the walls, but there was nothing. She smelled coffee and immediately felt confused; who the hell would be making coffee in her house? Taking a deep breath, she peeked around the wall into the kitchen.

Benji leaned against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. For once he was dressed in something other than his EMT uniform, a black polo shirt with jeans. She couldn't help but notice that the short hair looked good on him, but the thought only lingered for a second before it was replaced with wariness; while felt safe with him, he _had _compelled her. Leaning forward, Mikaela got a better look at the other person and gasped.

A woman with her back to Mikaela looked over the outside of the refrigerator, a mug also held in her hands. Her long, curly blonde hair was held back with a leather clip, but among the mass there were some scattered beads and hemp braids. She was dressed simply in business pants and a white button-up, and on her feet she wore casual sandals. "I shouldn't be surprised that you've already moved in on her, Benji," the woman commented with a sigh, turning around. "You always did have a thing with coming into our lives when you were most needed." Her blue eyes swept over to where Mikaela now stood in the open, no longer hiding.

Mikaela's heart beat in her ears as she met the woman's gaze. Benji looked over at her and said a greeting, but Mikaela couldn't bring herself to react. She was lost in the woman's icy blue irises, eyes that turned to stone when she looked at the younger girl. "Mikaela," she greeted flatly, standing up straighter. Mikaela swallowed audibly and mirrored the woman's movements, standing up as straight as a poker.

"Mom."

* * *

**After-Note:**

**Review, please ^_^**

**In case there was any confusion, as far as Mikaela's aware, Damon hasn't erased any memories; she does remember him compelling her to not kill herself, though.**


	17. Irish Coffee Is Not Coffee From Ireland

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! I know I've been flaking, I'm sorry. College isn't easy, and college + full-time job = difficulty to find free time. Despite this, I have the next chapter almost done, and to keep from putting spoilers at the beginning of a chapter, I'm gonna stop writing now...**

**The under-contruction soundtrack is up and open to suggestions =]!**

**

* * *

**Dr. Diane Smith-Greene looked over her daughter slowly, taking in every detail with a cool, calculating eye. Mikaela couldn't help but notice that her mother seemed to have developed a tan during her stay in South America, and if the braids and beads in her mane of blonde hair were any indication, she'd been spending plenty of time with the natives. It was hard not to feel under-dressed in a simple long-sleeve and jeans under that cold stare. After several moments of silence, the woman sighed and lifted her mug to her lips.

"You've gained weight," Diane concluded. For a moment all Mikaela could do was stare, dumbfounded by her words.

Three months.

Three months the woman had been gone without so much as a phone call, and that was the first thing she said? "I've been in the hospital a couple of times," Mikaela answered coolly, crossing her arms. "Gaining weight is a common side effect."

Diane took a long sip of coffee and leaned her hip against the counter, cocking her head to the side. "Weren't you going through a vegetarian phase, though?" she questioned. "You lost three pounds in the first two weeks."

"No, I was doing that new thing called exercise," she corrected. "Once I _died_, though, an inch or two on my waist line seemed unimportant."

"Ah yes, I heard about that," she commented. She made her way to the sink to wash out her mug. "George said you recovered nicely. That's good; apparently there was minimal neurological damage."

"Never mind the emotional scarring that resulted from being attacked in a parking lot," she muttered. "According to Doctor George Hassan, neurologically, I'm a miracle." Diane sighed and dried her hands off on a kitchen rag.

"Do you want me to call Rhonda and set up an appointment?" she asked tiredly. "When I visited her yesterday she told me her schedule was full, but I could call in some favors-"

"I don't want to talk to Doctor Rhonda Livingston about how being attacked makes me feel," Mikaela snapped, saying the psychiatrist's name mockingly. "I've had enough of shrinks. I'd have been happy with at least a _phone call_ asking if I was-" She stopped, registering something her mother had said. "Wait, you got here _yesterday_?"

"Yes, I got here yesterday evening," she answered calmly.

"Would you like a coffee, Mikaela?" Benji piped up, gesturing at the coffee pot.

"No, she wouldn't," Diane answered for her. "It's Irish."

"Exactly."

"My daughter won't be having any alcohol," Diane stated, ending the conversation.

Mikaela stared at her, brows raised as she waited for her to continue. When she didn't, she pressed on. "And you didn't tell me?" Diane blinked, apparently not realizing that Mikaela wanted to continue on the subject of her arrival.

"I only came into town to run a couple of errands and then I went back to the hotel," she explained, waving a hand. "I figured you were at that Halloween thing you always go to."

"I would've liked to know that my mother was back in town," she insisted, voice escalating. "I mean, _three months_ you're off saving the world, and now you just waltz in here like-!"

"Well, maybe I wasn't in such a rush for the warm welcome you're giving me," she shot back, patience snapping. "And maybe I wanted to avoid the shock I received upon arriving when I found out that my daughter has been staying at a boarding house full of men instead of-!"

"Zack is my godfather!" Mikaela exclaimed indignantly. "I have every right to stay over there!"

"And I'm sure it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with Damon Salvatore, does it?" Diane's verbal challenge hung in the silence, waiting for Mikaela to bounce back. All the teenager could do was stare, unable to believe what she'd heard. Diane crossed her arms and raised a brow expectantly. "You thought I didn't know, did you? I may not be around, but I know all about your associating with that man."

"I haven't done anything wrong," Mikaela finally managed, fists clenched at her sides. "I thought you'd know me better than to assume—"

"Assume what, Mikaela? I haven't assumed anything." Diane turned to Benji then and nodded. "Go on, tell her."

"Why the hell are you involving him in this?" Mikaela demanded.

"Don't use that language in my house!" Diane ordered.

Benji swirled his coffee, not looking up from the caffeinated drink. "I think this is the part when I step out of the house before you two start hitting each other," he said calmly, taking a drink. Diane narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're as much a part of this as I am," she stated. "Take responsibility."

"I told you when you got pregnant that it'd be better if-"

"My ass it would've been better!" Diane barked. Mikaela jumped, surprised by her mother's sudden change in tone and her foul language. Diane pointed a finger at her daughter and continued to glare at Benji. "You fix what you did, now!"

"No one told you to get busy on graduation night," Benji reminded her condescendingly.

"What the hell is going on?" Mikaela yelled. "Mom, you know about vampires?" If her mother had known Benji when she was pregnant, she had to have noticed that he hadn't aged a day. To her surprise, rather than yell back, her mother pursed her lips and silenced. She turned on Benji.

"Benji, please! What do you two know that I don't?" Her parents had often argued about "The Graduation-Night Incident", but she had no idea what it was nor what it had to do with Benji. When he didn't answer, the control on her temper snapped, along with her palm onto a kitchen vase. The tall, glass vase toppled over easily, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces and scattering all across the tile floor. Mikaela didn't even wait to see the extent of the damage before turning on her heel and marching out the front door.

She couldn't explain her anger or why it was that conversations with her mother almost always ended with one of them yelling and the other leaving the house for the following twenty-four hours; it'd been like that for years. Tears threatened to spill, but she wiped a hand across her eyes and took a deep breath. Forget getting clothes, she needed to get the hell out of that house. She stomped to her car and slammed the door behind her as she dropped into the driver's seat.

_Aggressive, aggressive, be, be aggressive!_

Mikaela groaned as the sound of Caroline's ring-tone filled the interior of the car. Pulling her vibrating phone out of her pocket, she answered just before it could go to voice mail. "Hello?"

"I'm throwing a party tonight at the Grill!" Caroline greeted excitedly, getting straight to the point. "Everyone has to go!" Offering up a silent prayer of thanks for the perfect excuse to stay out of her house, Mikaela started the car.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, backing out of the driveway. She could imagine the girl shrugging.

"I don't know, the idea just came to me. Anyways, I need a favor," she continued, not waiting for Mikaela's reaction. "Remember those guys we used to go to that club with?"

"Nick and Gavin?" Mikaela tried, unsure why Caroline was bringing them up. "The swimmer and the kick-boxer?"

"Yeah, the cute ones."

"I haven't spoken to them in ages."

"Well, invite them for me? My cell's running out of battery, and I can't-" Surely enough, the call was abruptly disconnected. Holding back a sigh, she went through her phone contacts until she found the number she was looking for. The call immediately got redirected to a recording saying that the phone had been disconnected, so she searched for another name. By the time he answered, she was already on the main road.

"Well well, I haven't seen this name on my caller ID in a while. How you doing, gorgeous?"

"Fine, Hector," she answered, careful not to sound too excited to hear his voice. Gavin's twenty-year-old brother was very easily encouraged. "Same old, same old."

"I haven't seen you up at the club for a couple of months. You got a boyfriend now or something?" he asked, his accent hinting at his Chicago upbringing. "'Cuz I don't like that Tyler guy. He's a bitch."

She couldn't help but laugh at his directness; he'd ever been one to care about how his opinion affected anyone. "Nah, I've just been caught up in school work," she lied smoothly. "There's no me and Tyler. Actually, I was wondering if Gavin was around. Caroline's throwing a party at the Grill and asked me to invite him and Nick."

"Is the older brother invited?" he asked, referring to himself.

"I think it's an open-doors sort of thing," she admitted. "You can come if you want."

"At what time?"

"Nighttime, I guess. She didn't specify. Do you need directions?"

He barked a laugh and she rolled her eyes, remembering his complete opposition to receiving directions from women. "Honey, don't you worry about us. We'll be there."

She smiled and hung up after a quick good-bye, dropping her cell phone onto the passenger seat. A party at the Grill with cute out-of-towners? Perfect. It would distract her from the problems going on and simultaneously piss off her mother. Two birds, one stone. Not even Isaac Newton was that brilliant.

* * *

**After-Note:**

**I'm thinking about just publishing the next chapter now, hmm...**

**Okay, fiiiiine, I give in, ha ha... On the condition you guys review, as you all faithfully do every time!**


	18. Strangers, Stakes and Secrets

**Author's Note:**

**Extra-long chapter in apology for the other shorter chapter ^_^ Anyone excited for Valentine's Day? I'm getting in the romantic spirit! Single people shouldn't have to suffer on the 14, right? Blah, ok, I give in, it's terrible some years, but I'm set on not suffering this year! AND, my birthday is the 19th, next Saturday, so treat me nice, ok ^_^?**

* * *

If anyone knew how to throw a party, it was Caroline.

By the time Mikaela got there, everything was in full swing. Music played at full-blast, people danced, drank and flirted, and, as always, the Gossip Brigade watched from the sidelines, whispering to each other behind their hands and snapping incriminating pictures with their cell phones. Even Stefan was dancing, albeit somewhat stiffly, with some older girl with incredibly long, straight hair. Figuring it wouldn't be a good idea to cause trouble between her housemate and neighbor, she averted her gaze and moved toward a familiar person standing alone.

"Hey Bonnie," she greeted cheerfully. Bonnie turned around with wide eyes, somewhat alarmingly. Mikaela raised a brow. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she said quickly, shaking her head. "It's just Caroline. We got into a fight."

"What happened?" The two sat at a tall table on stools, considering themselves lucky to find anywhere to sit with the Grill so packed. Bonnie sighed and rested her forehead on her hand.

"She wants this necklace back," she explained, holding up a pendant with an amber stone set into it. "Damon gave it to her and she gave it to me, but I can't give it back." It looked like a witch's talisman, and with curiosity Mikaela reached forward and held it. She froze when she recognized it was Emily's talisman; she'd seen it in an old photo when investigating Katherine and the Salvatore's. Composing herself, she let it go and rested her elbows on the table.

"It was Emily's, and now it's yours," she stated, shrugging. "I'm sure your grandmother told you about all that. Damon Salvatore has no business with a witch's talisman."

"You know about Emily?" she said in surprise. Mikaela shrugged again.

"I've been investigating Mystic Falls' founders for a paper," she said casually. "She was a handmaid from the Civil War era. If I'm not mistaken, she was also a witch."

"Do you really believe in all of that?" Bonnie asked carefully, gauging her expression. "You know, witches and stuff." Mikaela sensed something strange in Bonnie's aura as she said the "w" word and smirked.

"A witch asking a psychic if she believes in magic? Come on, Bonnie," she said, chuckling. "I've been talking to you about all that stuff for years."

"But I mean... seriously?" she pressed. Mikaela stopped smiling and leaned forward with a sigh.

"Seriously, Bonnie," she confirmed. "You may have thought I was joking, but your grandmother helped me with my powers after the car accident and the attack. My ancestry from my mother's side contains two lines of witches and my father comes from a line of psychics. It all became stronger after the accidents, but magic is something I've known all my life."

"So you can do spells?" Bonnie continued eagerly. Mikaela couldn't help but snort.

"I'm not nearly as powerful as you and your grandmother," she said, holding up a hand. "I guarantee it. I boiled water once and dabbled in telekinesis, but my forte is visions and premonitions, and honestly, I haven't been able to do any spells for a couple of weeks."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Now, what about you?" she asked, changing the subject. "If you're asking me about witchcraft, that must mean you have a little secret of your own." Before Bonnie could answer, a boy a year or two older than them with brown hair and a piercing on his eyebrow approached, a friendly smile on his lips. It took a moment for Mikaela to recognize him, but when she did, she couldn't hold back the grin that broke out across her face.

"Gavin!" she exclaimed excitedly. He held out his arms and gave her a quick hug.

"Hey there Kay," he greeted warmly. "Long time no see."

"Been busy," she said, rolling her eyes. "School and stuff."

"You need to graduate already," he said, shaking his head. "You belong at college with the rest of us. Same goes for you, Bonnie," he added, giving the witch a quick kiss on the cheek. "You look older."

"That's kinda what happens when time passes," Bonnie said, smiling. "Is Nick with you? I need to dance."

He chuckled, and surely enough, the dark-skinned, short-haired Nick approached them then, his trademark Colgate smile flashing like a beacon. "I heard there were two beautiful young ladies in need of dance partners," he announced, holding out a hand to Bonnie. "May I be of service?"

"Most definitely," she agreed, bouncing off her chair. She gave Mikaela a look promising they'd continue their conversation later and hurried to the dance floor. Gavin turned his black eyes on Mikaela then, nodding in the direction their friends had gone. She smiled and nodded.

Gavin, Nick and Hector all came from a time before the accident, a considerably happier time. Even with her mother absent, her issues with Tyler, and the psychic visions, going to the club on teen night and dancing with them had been all she needed to forget about the world for a while. Even there in the Grill with all of the vampire problems, her suddenly present mother, her issues with her ancestor's ghost and an imminent curse that she couldn't explain, seeing that inviting smile on Gavin's face was all she needed to feel like she had not even a year before. All she wanted was to forget, even if it was only for a couple of minutes.

* * *

As useless as Cheerleader Barbie could be for certain things, she'd done an excellent job of pulling together a crowd. As Damon swirled his drink and looked over half the town enjoying the spur-of-the-moment party, he felt a swell of anticipation at what was sure to happen any minute. Stefan and his 350-year-old friend, Lexi, had stopped dancing to play pool, oblivious to what was going on outside. Damon had already attacked a couple and compelled the girl to point out Lexi to the authorities when she was found, so it was only a matter of time. It was a shame that such a beauty would have to die, but that was the price to pay to get the Founder's Council off their backs.

Suddenly a flash of black and a strange laugh caught his attention. It was coming from the dance floor and it took him a moment to spot the source, but when he did, he nearly choked on his drink from the surge of hunger. The woman wore skin-hugging jeans, boots and a slinky shirt that exposed her back. Her hips were curved perfectly under a thin waist, the perfect shape and size for him to place his hands on if he were to hold her. For a moment she looked like Mikaela with her wild, jet-black hair, but it didn't make sense that she'd be dancing so freely with someone who was obviously not a local. She had to be from out of town- even better: it'd take longer for someone to start looking for her when he was through with her. Hell, he could even pretend that she was the vicious teenager.

Then she turned around, and the sad reality hit him: the dancer **was** Mikaela, and she looked like she was having a blast. The boy she was dancing with muttered something and she laughed again, that strange, melodic sound he hadn't heard from her in what felt like ages. Whenever she laughed lately, it was mostly sarcastically or bitterly, hardly ever real; with the stranger, however, genuine laughter seemed to come so naturally. She'd even opted to wear a choker rather than her customary cross, one of the many, many things that were out of character for her. Thankfully the song ended, giving him the opening he needed to end the strangeness. She didn't even sense him as he put down his drink and walked over.

"Why hello there, Miss Mikaela," he murmured into her ear, sneaking up from behind. She didn't seem startled at all by his appearance and turned around, a pleasant smile on her lips.

"Hey Damon," she greeted casually. "This is Gavin, a friend of mine from out of town." She gestured to the kid she'd been dancing with. "Gavin, this is Damon, a returnee to Mystic Falls." The Kid extended his hand to Damon.

"Nice to meet you," he said. Damon gave him a tight smile and didn't return the gesture.

"How about you go ask one of those girls over there to dance?" he suggested, his voice laced with compulsion. "They look interested." The Kid got a glassy-eyed look on his face and nodded quickly before turning around and walking toward the Gossip Brigade. Mikaela rolled her eyes and sighed.

"That was low, even for you," she informed him, but judging by her tone of voice, she wasn't as bothered as she should have been. "Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to say hello to my favorite psychic," he said innocently. "Have you been up to anything interesting today? Or had any relevant dreams?"

She raised a brow and walked past him to the bar. He followed, staying close to make sure nobody asked her to dance. Lexi openly watched him from the pool tables, but he ignored her and sat himself on a bar stool next to Mikaela. He ordered two drinks and the bartender didn't ask for any ID.

"If I had a vision about Elena's look-alike or you, I'd let you know. In reference to your other question, I went to the police station this morning for the interrogation on Vicki," she answered, sounding strangely bored by the subject. "It went well: she doesn't suspect a thing. After than, I went home, saw my mom, fought with my mom, and hung out around town until I came here."

"She's back?" he questioned. He hadn't given much thought to when her mother would return, but then again, three months seemed like long enough, even for a doctor. She had something of a scowl on her face, so he continued to probe the raw nerve. "I take it you're not jumping for joy."

The bartender brought them their drinks then, so Mikaela focused on swirling around the ice in order to avoid eye contact. "She's hardly been home since she started the fire four years ago," she began, never taking her eyes off the drink. "When she comes back, it's maybe for two or three weeks, and then she's off again to save lives in some foreign country. It should make me feel proud, but there's a line that's crossed when you leave the week after your husband falls into a coma and don't even call when your daughter is hospitalized."

He blew out a low whistle. "I should have ordered you something stronger," he muttered, holding out his glass. "To dysfunctional families?" She smiled a half smile and touched her glass to his.

"To people who make their relatives' lives hell," she added. He rolled his eyes and she smirked, downing some of the drink. She winced as the alcohol went down her throat and he smirked back.

"Lightweight."

"Jack ass," she shot back, shaking her head. A new song came on the speakers and she sat up straighter. "I'm going to dance," she announced. "Unless you have something else to say, I'm cutting this conversation short and saving Gavin." He took a look around and shook his head. Lexi was standing by a table with two shots of tequila in front of her. She seemed to be waiting for him and Mikaela to separate so she could approach him, and he was dying to hear what she had to say.

"You go ahead and save your friend," he urged, claiming her half-finished drink. "I'll sit here and work on my next evil plot." She slid off her bar stool and hurried across the Grill, expertly weaving between dancers and bystanders to reach her destination. Lexi seized the opportunity and went for the kill, stopping Mikaela on her way to the bar to whisper a quick warning.

"He has his moments, but don't forget who he really is." With that she released the human and set the shot of tequila in front of him. "Okay Damon, spill it. What the hell are you doing here?"

**

* * *

**

**A Couple of Hours Later:**

"Babe, I knew you girls all said you came from a small town, but I didn't expect _this_," Hector admitted, driving his Lincoln Navigator through the roads that led to the Salvatore boarding house. Mikaela couldn't help but smile at his complete awe of how little time it had taken to drive to their destination. She'd had her car and keys when she'd decided to leave, but after noticing the police around the Grill, she'd figured she'd be better off safe than sorry and asked Hector to drive her home. He'd been hanging around outside flirting when Mikaela had asked him for the favor, and like the good friend that he was, he hadn't even questioned her reasons and said yes. The truth was that Damon was right: she was a lightweight and didn't know how well she'd be able to drive after the drinks she'd had.

As they pulled up in front of the boarding house, she noticed that many of the lights were on. Damon and Stefan must have already gotten there. "Why are you staying here again?" he asked, raising a brow at the mansion.

"I got sick of staying in an empty house," she said honestly. "The company here isn't the best, but it's better than nothing."

"Who do you live here with?" he asked curiously.

"My godfather and his nephews," she answered, surprised by how easily she lied. "Uncle Zack's on a trip now, though, so it's Damon, Stefan and me."

"Stefan?" he repeated, raising a brow. "Elena's boyfriend?"

"Well, right now it's ex-boyfriend," she admitted, "but yeah, it's the same Stefan."

"And it doesn't bug her that you all live together?"

She shook her head and gathered together her purse and cell phone. "This all happened recently," she explained, "and Elena knows me better than that. I'd like to think that if it bothered her, she'd let me know." Unlocking the door, she turned back to Hector and smiled. "Thanks for the ride. I'll talk to you guys soon."

He was part of the ARMY Reserve, and as a result, his hair was kept incredibly short and his arms were large with muscle. He reached across the space between them and squeezed her shoulder softly. "You're a good girl, Mikaela," he said seriously. "Sometimes I wish Gavin would take his head out of his ass and realize that."

She couldn't stop the embarrassed laugh that escaped her then and she shook her head, trying to hide it. "Gavin's a great guy," she said in her dance buddy's defense. "He'll find someone soon, I'm sure of it."

"And so will you." He released her shoulder and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. "Just forget about that Tyler bitch." This time she laughed openly and got out of the car. She waved as he drove away, feeling content with the night she'd had. When she went to open the front door, it was locked.

The brothers never locked the front door.

Feeling an anxious knot form in her chest, Mikaela circled around the building and tried a side door. This one opened normally, and with anticipation she made her way to the parlor. Damon spent most of his time there, and Stefan spent most of his time up in his room. If anyone was responsible for strangeness in the house, it would be the devil himself. "Hello?" she called cautiously.

"You're gonna _love_ this."

Damon's voice came from by the bar, tiredness evident in his voice. Sensing pain from him, Mikaela hurried over and found him on the floor, a scowl on his face. He held a hand to his chest, and when she saw blood, it was as if everything else disappeared.

"What the hell happened?" she demanded, dropping to her knees in front of him.

"Stefan," he answered. Despite the fact that he'd just been attacked, he rolled his eyes and managed to lace his tone with annoyance. "Be careful, he might stake your mom, too."

"What are you talking about?" It was relieving to know that there wasn't a new enemy wandering the house, but even so, she had to make sure he was alright. She pulled his hands away from his chest to try and get a look at the wound. All she saw was a stain of blood and a small hole in his shirt, but she couldn't get a clear view. Sticking both fingers in the hole, she ripped open the fabric, exposing his chest. "If Stefan staked you, why aren't you dead?"

"He missed." Surely enough, there was a small hole the size of her finger an inch or two below where his heart was. It was slowly closing up, assuring her it'd be healed within a minute or two. "You know, if you wanted to see me without a shirt, all you had to do was ask."

"What made him snap?" she pressed, ignoring his comment. Damon sighed and dropped his head back against the bar.

"I gave the Sheriff a tip that Lexi was a vampire," he confessed, albeit with minimal (if any) shame. "It was the only way to keep the Founder's Council off our trail."

"Lexi?"

"The girl Stefan was with at the party." An image of the girl as a vampire entered her mind then, playing the part of the vampire from her vision perfectly. She saw her charge toward the Sheriff, only to get staked right before she could kill the county official. It was similar to her vision, but she didn't look anything like the vampire with the long, curly blonde hair and unnaturally blue eyes. Lexi was blonde, but not blonde enough, and obviously hadn't killed the Sheriff. Could her vision be wrong? "Your mother staked her."

The statement should have surprised her, but for some reason or another, it didn't. "Stefan won't kill her," she said, not doubting her words in the least. "If he didn't kill you, and you really did tip off the cops, I doubt he'd kill my mom for defense."

"Self-defense?" He scoffed. "She puts your vampire-slaying skills to shame." Mikaela rolled her eyes and leaned back on the balls of her feet to stand up. He snapped his hand forward and grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"I need blood," he stated. "Getting staked can really take the life out of you. No pun intended." She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for him to finish. "Unless you're willing to offer yours, there's some in the refrigerator."

Sighing, she stood up and walked to the kitchen. Just like he'd said, the refrigerator was stocked with bagged blood stolen from Richmond Medical, if the label was any indication. She pulled out one at random (B-positive, apparently) and marched back to the parlor. He was standing up and pulling a glass out from under the bar. "Here you go."

"Thanks. I owe you one." He ripped off the cap of the bag and started to pour the thick liquid into the glass, hunger showing around his eyes. Mikaela figured that would be the best moment to go, but then she stopped herself.

"Damon, why do you do all of this?" she asked, taking the one question that had been plaguing her about him off her chest. "Set up Lexi, torment your brother, help me out- what do you have to gain from staying here in Mystic Falls?"

He got a guarded look on his face and lifted the drink to his lips. She forced herself to not look away, just in case he let his guard drop long enough for her to catch a relevant emotion or image. There wasn't one. "Did you know that Stefan's been asking me that ever since I came here?" He poured what was left of the blood into the glass and continued to drink, not bothering to hide how much he enjoyed it. "What makes you think I'd tell you when I won't tell my own brother?"

"The fact that I could maybe help."

He scoffed and shook his head. "You've been useless so far."

"And yet you still keep me around."

"In case I need a midnight snack."

She rolled her eyes, not sensing any sincerity behind the threat. "Whatever you say, Damon," she said, waving a hand. "I'm heading to bed. Good night, and try not to piss your brother off anymore tonight."

"I can only try."

_

* * *

_

_The service was terrible, but the food was great._

_She watched his reflection on the mirror that took up the entire wall of the bar, disguising her interest by hiding behind a glass of some dry drink. He seemed cute enough, wide-eyed and obviously not a regular to the club. In all honesty, neither was she; the last time she'd gone there to eat had been two summers ago, and then she'd had company. One thing she loved about Florida was that the heat allowed the many delicious men that lived there to be dressed in thin layers of clothing, sometimes with only shorts and sandals to cover up their bodies. _

_Hunger started to bite at her and she set down her drink, deciding that there was no time like the present to end an innocent life and get some carnal satisfaction in the process. As she prowled over, she took a good, direct look at him. He couldn't be older than eighteen judging by the look in his eyes, but she'd be damned twice if that body of his didn't make up for lack of experience..._

_Katherine licked her lips and smiled seductively. Who knew the sunshine state would be a vampire's favorite place to eat?_

If there was one thing Mikaela disliked more than not having a clue, it was getting a clue and not knowing what the hell it meant. She woke up from her sleep not even an hour after going under, feeling slightly sweaty and very... _uncomfortable_. Such dreams always had such an effect on her, and she knew from experience that there was no way she was going to be able to fall back asleep any time soon.

With a growl of frustration, she threw the sheets off of her body and stepped out of bed. If there was anything she could do, it would be tell Damon something she was certain neither of the brothers could have expected: Katherine was alive and very well. As a matter of fact, she was so well that she was chomping down on Florida's youth and taking away the virtue of boys around the United States. Maybe it would be better if she left that part out...

Following her radar, Mikaela walked to Damon's room, the hardwood floors cold under her bare feet. The lights in his room were off, but even so, she knocked to be polite. When he didn't answer, she turned the knob and let herself in.

"Damon?" she called, making her presence known. She couldn't see much in his room, but when she looked towards the bed, the light of the hallway revealed his sleeping form. She furrowed her brows; normally she couldn't sense a sleeping person the way she would someone who was awake. "Damon, you awake?"

Still he didn't move. She reconsidered her decision to tell him about her dream, but only for a second. With new found resolve, she moved to the edge of his bed and nudged his shoulder. "Damon, wake up," she urged. "It's me, Mi-"

"I'm ignoring you," Damon muttered suddenly, still not opening his eyes. Of course: he was faking it. She balled her fist and held her tongue.

"I'm sorry, it's just-"

"Go away."

She pursed her lips and turned around: she wasn't going to grovel for his attention. "Fine. By the way, Katherine's alive, asshole," she snapped over her shoulder. She gripped the edge of the door to slam it shut behind her, but before she could even take another step, he'd shot out of bed and closed it. He wrapped an arm around her and dragged her to the other side of the room, a hand clamped over her mouth. She started to struggle, but at a warning look from those pale blue eyes, she stilled.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in a growl, releasing her. She took in his apparel (or rather, lack of) and crossed her arms, putting up a barrier between herself and his shirtless self. He may be a vampire, but he was still a man—an attractive one, at that—and she had to be careful, especially with her hormones acting up thanks to the dream.

"I just had a dream with her," she explained, keeping her voice low.

"Are you sure it wasn't Elena?"

She shook her head. "No, I can tell the difference. This was definitely Katherine, and she is very much alive." She'd expected him to feel surprise, relief, or maybe even a conflict of emotions. The lack of any of the above, however, caught her off guard. She looked at him carefully and gauged his reaction. "You already knew, didn't you?"

He got a deathly serious look on his face and leaned forward, bracing his arms against the wall behind her. The proximity made her skin prickle, but she composed her face and refused to let it show. He stared into her eyes with a dagger-like warning, waiting for the first indication that she was lying. "Who else have you told?" he finally demanded in a low voice.

"Nobody," she answered immediately. "I just had the dream two minutes ago."

"Would you swear your life on it?"

"On your girlfriend? Not a chance. I give you my word."

He considered this and she waited, heart pounding loudly in her ears. He was so close, at any moment he would kiss- Her train of thought crashed and exploded. Surely she meant that he could _kill_ her at any moment, right? He let out a breath and stepped back, releasing her from the invisible hold his presence put her under. Suddenly she wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

"This can go one of two ways," he stated, keeping his voice low in case Stefan was overhearing. "One, I threaten you so you forget that we had this conversation, or two, I let you in on my little secret."

"You're giving me the choice?" she asked doubtfully. He raised a brow, indicating that if she prolonged giving him a straight answer, the choice would be made for her. She sigh and rolled her shoulders, bracing herself for what was sure to come. "Alright. Tell me everything."

"Are you sure you want to know?"

She looked out the window at the inky black sky. "If I don't try and help you out, Damon, who in this God-forsaken town will?" The silence that followed confirmed her statement. "I'd suggest you stop dancing around the subject and just be straight with me, because I'm the only one that's even remotely on your side here."

If she had said that to him in August, she was certain he'd have grabbed her by the throat and tried to strangle her. With the image vivid in her mind, she prepared to counterattack him at any moment, be it verbally or physically. It turned out that it wasn't necessary. He made no move to approach her, but rather crossed his arms and slowly looked her over, almost as if it were for the first time. She felt uncomfortable at being observed so openly, but shifted her weight from one foot to the other and kept it hidden. Finally he shook his head and grabbed a shirt off the mantle, pulling it on over his head.

"You're a weird one, you know that?" he said, motioning that she follow him out of the room. "Feisty."

Maybe it was the late-night tiredness or the hormones, but as she stepped out into the hallway and followed him to the library, Mikaela had the distinct feeling that she'd just won a battle against Damon Salvatore.


	19. Death Over a Tomb

**Author's Note:**

**I know, I've taken forever to update, and I'm sorry... College and work consumed my life. I tried to make this chapter a bit longer in apology, and I'm already working on the next one. Thanks so much to all of you for the support and reviews, you guys are the only reason this chapter came out at all...**

* * *

Mikaela was starting to think that asking Damon to tell her _everything _hadn't been such a good idea.

In layman's terms, Damon knew Katherine was alive. Apparently she'd had Emily seal her in a tomb underneath Fell's Church to save her from being killed by the Founder's Council. The downside was that the key to opening the tomb was Bonnie's talisman. The other downside was that Katherine was a psychotic bitch. The other other downside was that, until he got the psychotic bitch out of the tomb, he wasn't going to leave Mystic Falls. The cherry on the sundae of bad news? Damon wanted _her,_ of all people, to help him get the talisman from Bonnie.

The good news?

There was none.

"Kaela, did you bring your curling iron?" Elena called from the living room. She was sitting on the couch with Bonnie and Caroline, most likely making up from the fight they'd been having ever since the party. Mikaela hadn't dared join in on the conversation for fear that her nerves would show, and had settled instead with preparing a spicy salsa for the nachos. It was easier to hide her paranoia when conversation wasn't required.

She stopped dicing the onions and pointed at her duffel bag with the knife. "Side pocket. The spray should be next to it," she answered, and returned to work. Elena gave her a strange look before getting up to fetch the device.

A slumber party. Was that the solution for everything? Apparently so. Bonnie was being haunted by the ghost of her long-lost ancestor, Emily Bennett; what was to be done about it? A slumber party! Caroline wanted to forget all about Damon Salvatore- well then, why didn't they just throw a slumber party? Elena and Stefan were on the outs- Gasp! A slumber party was in order! A night of manicures, hair-ironing and gossip between the four girls most plagued by supernatural beings in Mystic Falls was exactly what the doctor had in mind.

Mikaela stopped her sarcastic train of thought when she realized she'd almost pulverized the onions. She needed to calm down. She'd used to enjoy sleepovers as much as she'd enjoyed dancing, and dancing at the Grill had felt just like it used to; what made this any different?

Oh, maybe just the fact that she'd pretty much become Mystic Fall's least-popular vampire's accomplice overnight.

She still wasn't entirely sure how that had happened, either. One minute he'd led her out to the bluff and was telling her the story of how Katherine got locked in the tomb, and the next the two of them were trying to figure out ways to get her out. Damon had suggested (rather than all-out ordered) that she get the talisman from Bonnie, and she'd agreed to do so on the condition that he make sure nobody found out about their agreement and that, once his girlfriend was free, he take her far away from Mystic Falls. Apparently there were twenty-seven other vampires locked up with Katherine, but Damon didn't seem to care much for what happened to them, so Mikaela figured she'd simply lock the tomb up behind them. The last thing she needed was anyone dying on her account.

Her cell phone started to vibrate across the counter. She didn't recognize the number, but wiped her hand off on a kitchen rag and answered anyway. "Hello," she greeted politely.

"You know, I've never seen you in a swimsuit. You should have told me you could pull off a bikini."

Mikaela instinctively grabbed the knife and closed her fist tightly around it. "Are you going through my things?" she demanded in a whisper, not wanting to catch the girls' attention. Damon sighed on the other end of the line.

"Why do you always assume that I'm-?"

"Are you?"

"Of course I am," he scoffed. She rolled her eyes. "Stefan's been making small talk all day, so I needed to entertain myself. Do you have the necklace?"

Mikaela looked up to make sure that the girls were entertained before answering. "I can't," she stated quietly. "I'm sorry, but not tonight. You're gonna have to-"

"Don't make me go over there."

"This is a sleepover, Damon!" she hissed in exasperation. "You can't just come over here and cause trouble, it'll blow our cover!"

"I'll be causing more than just trouble if you don't get me my necklace."

"It's not your necklace," she reminded him.

"That's a minor detail in the larger scale of things."

"Kaela, we're doing a séance!" Caroline declared. She realized Mikaela was on the phone and got a mischievous grin on her face. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Hey, I'm talking to you here," Damon snapped.

"Gaaaaavin," Elena called teasingly. Mikaela forced a smile and rolled her eyes, ignoring Damon's complaints on the phone. He could be too jealous for his own good sometimes.

"Shut up guys, it's rude to tease," she scolded. "Look, we'll talk tomorrow, okay? Okay, bye." She hung up before the vampire could say anything else and set her phone on the counter with more force than was probably necessary. "So, a séance?" she questioned. "Bring it on. Mystic Falls could always use more of the supernatural."

* * *

Four was a good number.

"So, how does this séance thing work?" Elena asked, walking into the bedroom with her arms full of candles. Mikaela relieved her of part of the load and started to set up the room while Caroline explained.

"We're going to try and communicate with Emily on the other side," she said matter-of-factly. "If it's successful, she'll tell us what she wants from Bonnie."

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Bonnie asked, sitting in front of a bowl with different herbs in it. "I just want her to go away."

"You can't run away from your problems," Caroline said condescendingly. "This is the only way."

"Because you're such an expert on getting rid of the supernatural, right?" Mikaela commented sarcastically. Elena caught onto the double meaning, but all Caroline did was shoot her a glare before returning to work. Mikaela chuckled and went back to assembling the area.

Damon had tried calling her back several times, but after answering one last call with a threat of staking him in his sleep, she'd ignored him like an annoying ex-boyfriend and told the girls that it was just Tyler. They'd all nodded their heads solemnly and accepted her lie- even Elena, who should have been the first to catch onto the fact that Mikaela and Damon were up to something more than just threatening each other.

The house phone rang and all of them groaned. "Just one second," Elena promised. She set her candles down and hurried to the first floor where the phone was. Mikaela finished up her job for her and sat down across from Bonnie to wait.

"So, what's going on with you and Gavin?" Bonnie asked, clearly eager for a distraction from the séance they were about to perform. Mikaela was about to object any romantic involvement with her friend, but then realized that would raise suspicion: any girl would be crazy about Gavin if he paid even the slightest amount of attention to her, right?

"Well, to be honest," Mikaela began, but was cut of by Caroline's groan.

"Come on Kaela, you don't have to lie," she said dramatically, rolling her eyes. Mikaela felt a red flag going off at the girl's narrowed-eyed glance. Caroline sat down next to her and leaned back comfortably. "Just tell us the truth, along with all of the gory details: what's really going on at the boarding house after hours?"

Mikaela felt her ears start to ring and her heart just about jump out of her chest. "What are you talking about?" she said, trying her hardest to mask the nerves. She had a _very_ bad feeling about the direction Caroline was taking the conversation in. Caroline sighed and waved a hand.

"Come on, you and Damon together in the same house every night," she elaborated, just barely concealing how much the reality actually annoyed her. "We all know you guys had a thing, so fess up: any post-break-up sex yet or what?"

"Caroline!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Damon's a psycho and we all know that."

"I'm just saying that it's the way things work!" Caroline insisted defensively. "First you're just making small talk about the past, then you start to hug, and then, bam! Sex. It's perfectly natural."

"Not everyone has sex with every boyfriend they have," Mikaela stated, making her way back into the conversation, but being careful to avoid saying anything incriminating. "Some people actually want to wait for something serious." Caroline groaned.

"Oh right, I forgot," she muttered. "We invited the chastity brigade to stay over. My bad."

Mikaela felt an uncharacteristic flare of anger burst to life. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed. "In case you've forgotten, _you're_ the one who slept with _my _ex-boyfriend, you pheromone-driven, simple-minded, ignorant blonde-"

"Okay guys, let's just stop there," Bonnie interjected, hoping to end the fight before it got out of hand. Before Caroline could shoot something back, Elena walked into the room.

"Kaela, your mom says to..." Elena trailed off, catching onto the tension in the room. "Is everything okay, guys?"

"Everything's perfect," Caroline stated, pursing her lips. "Mikaela here's just feeling a bit on the PMS-y side."

Mikaela held back an insult and turned to Elena. "So, what about my mom?"

"She said to call her as soon as possible." A touch of concern crossed her face. "It sounded important."

Grateful for the excuse to escape Caroline's attitude, Mikaela got to her feet. "Then I guess I have a phone call to make. You guys go on ahead and get started without me."

* * *

He should have known better than to trust the psychic.

Damon sat in his usual seat at the bar with his usual drink, brooding over the current situation. He'd told Mikaela everything: how Katherine got locked in the tomb, the deal he made with Emily, the reason he was in Mystic Falls- he'd even let her in on the other 27 vampires locked up with Katherine. She'd accepted everything with calm nods and the occasional question, but by the end of the conversation, they'd reached a deal: she'd help get Katherine out of the tomb if he and Katherine left Mystic Falls once she was freed, and so long as he didn't kill anyone in the process.

It was a strange concept to wrap his head around, but he had no doubt in his mind that Mikaela wasn't trying to betray him. If she'd been conspiring with Stefan, Stefan wouldn't be pestering him for answers like he'd been doing all evening. She'd made a deal and would follow through. No, the real problem with working with her was that she was absolutely useless. A whole day had gone by, and absolutely no progress had been made.

"Is this seat taken?"

Damon looked up from his drink, concealing his surprise with a smirk. Dr. Diane stood next to the bar stool next to him, ordering "the usual" from the bartender as she settled down. The doctor was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeve blue button-up that brought out her striking blue eyes. In the dim light, she looked considerably young, not at all like a burdened middle-aged woman with a seventeen-year-old daughter and a husband in an indefinite coma. She openly sized him up before sitting down, and Damon couldn't help but notice that her eyelashes formed a dark, thick hood over her eyes exactly like Mikaela's did. The corner of her mouth lifted into a polite smile of acknowledgment as he raised his drink, silently welcoming her to join him.

"Anything for the local doctor and vampire hunter," Damon said into his drink, just loud enough for her to hear, but low enough that the bartender didn't notice. She dropped her purse on the bar, sighing as she leaned forward on her elbows.

"Being a vampire hunter's only part time," she corrected. "Being a doctor's my_ real_ full-time occupation."

"Enough of a full-time occupation to keep you in South America for three months?" Damon commented, raising an eyebrow. "What do you have against small-town medicine?"

"Small-town medicine isn't the problem," she stated. When the bartender brought her her drink, she didn't hesitate a second before taking her first large gulp, hardly flinching as the black-label whiskey went down her throat. Damon felt slightly impressed; Mikaela's lightweight genes obviously didn't come from her mother.

As a matter of fact, there weren't many similarities at all between the woman and her daughter. The doctor was tall and had a thin, willowy figure. She had a mane of tight, platinum-blonde curls and her face was thin and delicate, the projection of elegance and grace. If the Sheriff hadn't explained to Damon that the woman was Mikaela's mother, he would never have guessed that they were even related.

"Then what is?" At her questioning look, he elaborated. "The problem. Why do you leave for so long?"

"Can you imagine working in a hospital and seeing your husband every day? It'd be depressing." The rhetorical question was made with a casual enough tone, and Damon had neither Mikaela's ability to sense the underlying emotion in the statement or enough of an understanding of the woman to read her. For all he could tell, the subject of her husband was one as commonplace as the weather, even if it shouldn't have been. Her leaving didn't just mean she got away from her husband, it meant she got away from Mikaela. She raised a thin brow and looked at him. "Your turn. What are you doing back in town?"

"Family circumstances," he answered automatically, shrugging a shoulder and rolling his eyes. "Stefan wanted to spend more time in his hometown and see his uncle. What can I say? My little brother has a way with the puppy-dog eyes."

"You don't seem like the type to be easily swayed by the longings of a teenager," she said doubtfully. Damon smirked.

"We all have our secrets," he said vaguely. "I just happen to have a weakness for sad eyes." She nodded. A song started to sound from the doctor's purse, and with a sigh, she started excavating through the large bag for her cellphone. The song sounded familiar; it was a theme song to some movie Damon could just barely put his finger on, but before he could make the connection, she answered.

"Dr. Smith-Greene," she said, the greeting coming out with the ease of something said more than twenty times a day.

"_What happened?"_

Damon could hear Mikaela's voice through the cellphone speaker. She sounded only slightly irritated, an improvement to the all-out frustration she'd belted on him the last time she answered his call. Dr. Diane paused and her eyes flicked over to Damon for a second, but the motion was so quick he hardly even noticed.

"Elena give you my message?"

Mikaela sighed. _"If I'm calling you, it's for a reason. Is everything okay?"_

Damon pretended to take a drink to keep from smiling; apparently he wasn't the only one who brought out the worst in the teenager. Diane rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "I just think you should spend a night in your own house," she stated matter-of-factly. "Take your things and go home. I'll be there in about an hour."

Mikaela paused. _"Seriously? Why can't I just stay with the girls for one-?"_

"Because I said so," she interrupted.

"_Mom, there aren't any guys, it's not like-"_

"I don't care.

Mikaela scoffed, and Damon could imagine her throwing up a hand in exasperation.

"_Oh yeah, that changes everything,"_ she muttered sarcastically. _"Forget it, I'm either staying here or going to the boarding house, but there's no way-"_ She stopped mid-sentence and didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. _"Bonnie? Bonnie, where-?"_ She paused again. _"I've gotta go."_ And with that, she hung up. The doctor looked at her phone to make sure that the call had really been disconnected. Damon tried his hardest not to laugh: any moment now, the doctor would blow a fuse, and then-!

"You should go and check on her," she suggested, pocketing her phone. "Knowing her, she just had a vision."

That was definitely not the reaction he'd been expecting. "Vision?" Damon repeated innocently. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't play dumb," she snapped. "If she's living with you, you'd be stupid not to know about the visions." Damon held up a hand in defense.

"Hey, she told me that her visions were a sec-"

"As I was saying," she interrupted, making it clear that she had no interest in listening to his excuses, "You should go check on her."

"Do you think she's okay?"

The doctor shrugged and swirled the ice around her drink. "It's not like she's gonna die from a vision," she said with an edge of dark humor. "I mean, even if she wanted to, she couldn't. No, I'm just worried she'll wake up alone if she does get herself killed."

Damon stopped, thrown by her words. "What are you trying to say?" he pressed, wondering if she meant what he thought she meant. He'd had suspicions about Mikaela's near-death experiences, but if Diane's statement held even the slightest amount of truth, that would mean she had answers. She gave him a narrow-eyed look and finished her drink, dropping it onto the counter with intentional force. She slipped a dollar bill under the glass and gathered her purse, signaling that the conversation was over. "Doctor-"

"Good night, Damon," she said firmly. And with that, she moved to the exit, faster than he thought was necessary for a woman who didn't have something to hide. Not bothering to finish his drink, he made his way to the side exit, figuring that if the doctor knew anything about Mikaela and what was going on, she was most likely right and he needed to find the psychic before something went wrong.

* * *

Mikaela was starting to wish she'd brought a jacket.

It wasn't as if she'd planned the late-night journey: one minute she was on the sidewalk talking to her mother on the phone, the next Bonnie was marching toward the forest, a woman with a mission. She'd have been one poor excuse of a psychic to not have noticed that Bonnie was possessed, so without wasting a second she'd taken off after the witch.

The forest was pitch-black and the wind bit at her bare skin as she tried to keep up. She ran her hands up and down her arms, but the friction provided little to no heat and she quickly gave up. Bonnie was becoming nothing more than a light blur several yards ahead of her, the darkness always threatening to swallow her up. Mikaela picked up speed and tripped on a tree root, cursing when she almost lost sight of Bonnie. Reaching out to touch her mind, Mikaela sensed a jumble of thoughts, but one clear image stood out: a church. Fell's Church.

_I have to put an end to this._

Mikaela was shocked by the clear thought. Very rarely could she catch onto a complete sentence from somebody's mind, especially if it was one she wasn't familiar with. Her best guess was that Bonnie was possessed by Emily, but she'd never met Emily, so she shouldn't have been able to hear anything unless Emily was projecting it to her. Judging by how focused she was on the task at hand, the last thing she was thinking about was telling Mikaela much of anything. The only explanation was that she'd met her before, which she hadn't...

But Elizabeth had.

The thought made her freeze. Luckily, at the exact moment that she stopped, Bonnie/Emily did as well. She stood at the edge of the ruins of Fell's Church, pieces falling together in her head as Emily started drawing symbols into the ground, completely ignoring Mikaela's presence. Mikaela watched her, not with her own eyes, but with her mind's eye. She saw Emily in Bonnie's place, and Bonnie sleeping silently in the background, completely overshadowed by her ancestor's presence. The source of the possession came from the talisman, and Mikaela knew that if she were to destroy it, it would free Bonnie from the possession. Even so, Emily's presence wasn't hostile: she meant Bonnie no harm. Once she completed her task, she would leave Bonnie alone, and there would be no need to do any destroying.

But what was she trying to do?

Taking a deep breath, Mikaela stepped forward. "Emily?" she called tentatively. The witch looked up and met Mikaela's eyes, and that confirmed her suspicion: Emily was temporarily possessing her descendant. She returned to work and Mikaela pressed on. "Emily, what are you trying to do?"

"I need to put an end to all of this," she stated, her voice colder than Bonnie's. "They can't be set free."

The twenty-seven vampires and Katherine. "Do you mean the vampires?" Mikaela asked. Emily didn't answer. "Nobody's trying to set them free. Damon just wants Katherine back, and then I'll get rid of the others."

"I can't let Damon have it."

"Then let me have the talisman!" Mikaela insisted. "I'll make sure he doesn't set the others free!"

"You can't be sure of that," Emily said gravely, "and I can't take my chances on the Knight child."

Mikaela felt her chest tighten. "How do you know-?"

"I can sense her in you," Emily cut off. "Putting her away was my part of the curse." As she finished drawing the circle in the ground, Mikaela was unable to move, her ears ringing. She had a feeling about what Emily meant, but it couldn't be possible.

"Your part?" Mikaela repeated. "What did you do, Emily?"

"I was supposed to bring her back to life," Emily answered. "The spell was that she would come back once Katherine died, but I locked Katherine in the tomb, so the curse went on."

"You betrayed Elizabeth?" Mikaela clarified. "That's why she's still locked in her body?"

"I had no choice," Emily stated, albeit with a hint of regret. "They were going to kill my family."

Mikaela remembered that from the story that Damon told her, but she wasn't interested in the details. "Emily, what is the curse?" she pressed, feeling that her time was running out. "Why do you sense her in me if you put her away? Why-?"

"I have to put an end to this," she said again, and finally stopped. "I'm sorry."

"No, just tell me!" she yelled, advancing forward. "Why does she possess me? What allows her to take control of-?"

"Blood," Emily finally replied, holding out a hand in front of her. "The curse is bound by blood."

Mikaela opened her mouth to say something else, but the words caught in her throat. She felt the breath shoot out of her lungs and something twist in her gut, but when she tried to move, she couldn't. Emily was looking at her with apologetic eyes, and then she turned her back on her, starting to chant a spell into the wind. Mikaela looked down, and what she saw made the whole world stop. The branch that Emily had been using to draw the symbols in the ground was now lodged in her abdomen, shot in so cleanly that Mikaela had taken a couple of seconds to notice it. If memory served her correctly, she must have been standing right in front of a tree when she was stabbed, which meant she was now pinned to it and trapped. She reached down to touch the branch, confused by the image: it wasn't natural, how-?

"Emily, stop!" she cried out, intentionally blocking the image of the branch lodged into her. "Please!"

She felt the endorphins rush through her system, making her dizzy and her body feel like it was vibrating. She wanted to keep yelling, but there was no point: the witch was focused on her spell. The pain hadn't set in yet, but she knew that at any moment, it would. Unsure what exactly was guiding her movements, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed the only number that came to mind. She knew her anatomy, and if she waited even another second, she was going to die.

"We need to talk. Where are you?"

It was strange to think that his voice could very well be the last thing she'd hear, but she didn't have time to reflect on her mortality. "Fell's Church," she forced out, the two words costing her more energy than they should have. "Hurry." Her hand went limp and the phone dropped to the ground. She could hear the distant sound of him asking her more questions, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything else. Her head was starting to swoon, and she needed to focus on staying awake.

Her chest and legs felt warm, and Mikaela knew that it was her own blood seeping into her clothing. She needed to stay awake, needed to stay alive. She couldn't think about her regrets, couldn't think that this was the end: she had to stay in the present. She couldn't think about how she wished she could have told Tyler that she missed him; she couldn't think about how she wished that, in some alternate universe, she and her mother could had been able to work out their issues; she couldn't even conceive the idea that her father would wake up in a world where she wasn't living anymore; she couldn't wonder if the strange acquaintanceship she and Damon had started would have ever grown to an actual friendship.

Now where had _that_ idea come from?

Before she could think or not think anymore, she felt the familiar feeling of slowly floating away from her body, moving onto the in-between she always found herself in before being dragged back to life. She felt the familiar panic of knowing it was the end, but before it could set in, she felt the assurance that everything would somehow, in some strange way, turn out alright.

And with that false assurance, she died.

* * *

The stench of ashes led him to the church faster than memory itself.

By the time Damon arrived on the scene, Stefan and Elena were already there. Apparently Elena had been more informed than Mikaela, otherwise he would have gotten there long before them. Bonnie was standing in the center of a witch's circle, the ground still smoking slightly from what he guessed had to have been a fire caused by magic. The witch held a hand to her head and turned, looking at Damon with confusion. His entire field of vision centered on only one thing, or rather, the absence of the only thing he really cared about at that moment.

She'd destroyed the talisman.

With a roar of anger, Damon launched forward and ripped into her throat with his fangs, causing as much damage as he could. She screamed, but he hardly even heard it for the three seconds it took for her body to go limp. He threw her to the ground in disgust and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, taking several steps back as Stefan and Elena rushed forward to the witch's aid.

Katherine. He'd lost Katherine.

The feeling of defeat started to set in. He didn't care in the slightest for the fear and hatred radiating off of Elena and Stefan at that moment, nor for the fact that Bonnie was now fighting for her life thanks to him. He'd lost his only chance of getting Katherine back, and that was all that he had left to live for. Stefan forced his blood into Bonnie's mouth, and surely enough, it started working its effect almost immediately. She gasped and tried to squirm away from Stefan and the two quickly tried to calm her down. Damon's bitterness and sheer disappointment in life kept him from feeling anything else, and as he walked away from the trio, he saw something strange.

Despite the fact that she'd been the one to call him, Mikaela hadn't even passed through his mind. Elena's scream confirmed what he was seeing as he moved toward Mikaela's body, cocking his head to the side as he took it in. Emily had apparently stabbed her through the stomach with a tree bough, effectively trapping her to a tree and keeping her out of the way. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her skin was deathly pale, a stark contrast to the black polo she was wearing and the dark jeans. Her head hung forward, her hair forming a dark curtain that shielded her face from view. There was no sound of a heartbeat, but the smell of her blood was so strong, he was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. Looking over his shoulder, he met his brother's eyes and knew that he'd noticed Mikaela's body the moment he arrived. If he hadn't tried to help her yet, that had to mean that he was right.

"Stefan, help her!" Elena begged. Damon listened, but he didn't need to voice what his brother would have much trouble explaining to his girlfriend: Mikaela was dead, and no amount of vampire blood could help her at that point. A light on the ground caught his attention, and when he looked, he saw her cellphone open on the ground. The last thing she'd done had been call him? He stood there silently as Stefan ushered Elena and Bonnie to the car, assuring them that he'd do what he could, but that they needed to get someplace safe for the night.

Before Stefan could say anything, Damon cut him off. "I'll take care of it," he said, not wanting to hear anything his brother had to say. Getting the hint, Stefan left, and Damon was alone with his own thoughts.

Emily had destroyed the talisman, and now, the only way he knew how to free Katherine was gone.

Damon moved forward and braced one hand on the tree branch, the other on Mikaela's shoulder. With a grunt of effort, he pulled the branch out of the tree, flinging it across the clearing. The body slumped to the ground in a heap, a useless pile of skin, muscle, bone and hair. It was strange how it used to be inhabited by such a strong-willed spirit. With a sigh, Damon crouched down to get a good grip on the body, already considering a good spot close to the graveyard where he could bury it. Would it be too ironic to bury it next to her ancestor's grave?

Then he heard it.

It was hardly a flutter, so soft at first that he was certain he'd imagined it. Then he heard it again, stronger this time, and there was no mistake. He sat the body against the tree trunk and waited, just in case it stopped. When it didn't, Damon shook his head and sat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulder and letting her fall into the nook created there. He bit into a good vein in his wrist and held the wound to her mouth, holding her head up so the blood was forced down her throat.

As he sat there and waited, her heartbeat slowly became stronger and her lungs started to fill with air. He pulled his wrist from her mouth and lifted her shirt a couple of inches, watching with interest as the hole in her body started to close up. Even vampire blood didn't work that fast. Color started to spread across her skin and he couldn't help but shake his head.

The girl simply would not die.

She woke up with a start, but he'd been expecting that. As she swung her head around, taking in her surroundings, her eyes were wide, glassy with fear. She met his eyes and he noticed a shimmer of green in the irises, as there always was when she used magic. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she started to come back to reality, and once the green faded from her eyes, she spoke.

"The curse is bound by blood," she said in realization, the words holding a weight he couldn't understand. When he didn't respond, she repeated it. "Blood. Elizabeth's curse is bound by blood."

"Your point?" He didn't care at all anymore for the curse, Elizabeth, or anything that didn't have to do with Katherine. There was nothing left for him in this town. He was there with Mikaela, and yet he may as well not have been there at all. She didn't seem to care for his lack of concern, either.

"Elizabeth's curse runs through the bloodline," she clarified, speaking faster than normal. "That's why she can possess me. The reason she's just started taking control now is because you're here, and she's trying to tell you something. My powers have been acting strange because Elizabeth's been acting up, and her powers cancel out mine."

"You're saying this as if I care."

"Can you stop being an ass for a second and listen?" she snapped irritably. "If I can get that talisman, I can break the curse. Elizabeth's body rotted a long time ago, so she'll simply move on to the afterlife. Once she's out of the picture, I'll get my powers back, and I can open the tomb myself." Just as he was about to point out that she'd just been killed by a giant twig and shouldn't be talking about what she was and wasn't capable of doing, she winced and held a hand to her stomach, doubling over in pain. "Dammit, it hurts!"

"I'm not surprised," Damon muttered. "And in case you haven't caught on yet, the witch destroyed the talisman. It's over."

She blinked several times and sat back up, apparently recovering. "Wait, what?" she asked, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "But- you're here. You saved me, which means you got here in time, so-"

"I didn't save you," he stated flatly, and he saw her eyes widen. "You died and did that coming-back-to-life thing that you do. All I did was make sure I didn't have to drag you to a hospital."

"I died?" she repeated, furrowing her brows. He snorted.

"I thought you'd be so used to it by now, you'd be able to tell the difference between passing out and dying," he commented. She didn't seem to hear him and got to her feet, shaking her head in denial. Her knees wobbled slightly as she stood up, but still she tried to walk.

"No, I didn't die," she murmured, holding a hand to her forehead. "I'd have been able to tell. I don't..." She trailed off and, within seconds, collapsed into a heap on the ground. Damon rolled his eyes and got up, walking over to her unconscious body. Her breathing was weak but steady, which had to mean she'd simply collapsed out of exhaustion. With a sigh he bent down and picked her up, holding her dead weight against his chest. Her head lolled back and settled onto his arm, letting him see her face.

Everything he'd planned, everything he'd hoped for, had just collapsed. He felt this hole of hopelessness threatening to open up and consume him, and yet as he looked at that face and walked home, it didn't. He didn't feel any better and he most definitely didn't feel any love for the human, but something about her kept him from going under. Even if she was unconscious, he couldn't deny that for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel nearly as alone as he really was in the world.

That, in itself, had to be more surprising than a girl that couldn't die.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Remember, please review! Thanks guys, you're the best!


	20. Doing What Needs To Be Done

**Author's Note:**

**Nice, long chapter! Okay, I know it's been a long road since the first chapter, but now that we've reached this monumental chapter number, I want to say how much I truly appreciate all of you guys' support. I know I can take a while to update and I'm sorry, but I'm always trying to make this story the best I can make it to be in the hope that you guys will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. I hope you guys are having a good summer (those of you who are on vacation, unlike myself), and trust me, the next chapters are gonna come very fast now ;).**

**Take care faithful readers, and stay safe!**

* * *

Damon trudged into the boarding house, grateful that nobody was home. The only upside to returning home empty-handed had to be that nobody knew he was supposed to come back from his day-long trip to the City Hall Records with something to show for it. The hope had been to find some journal with records in it of a spell or a tomb, but as far as he'd looked, there had been absolutely nothing even related to the vampires at all. It figured as much, considering that one of the Founder's Council's goals was to keep the existence of vampires a secret from the rest of the town, but he had no leads, so it was as good an attempt as any to read through them again. He walked to the parlor and tossed his leather jacket onto the coffee table to pour himself a drink. If he had any intention of sleeping, he'd need the help to unwind. Just as that first mouthful made its way down his throat, footsteps announced that he had company.

"Had fun in Georgia?"

Mikaela walked into the parlor, a strange smirk playing across her lips. She was clad in a pair of dark jeans and a lacy navy camisole, colors that contrasted with the rosy hue spread lightly across her cheeks. Judging by the fact that she was drying her hair with a towel, Damon figured she'd just gotten out of a hot shower when she'd sensed his arrival. She sat down on the couch and started to brush through the pitch locks with a comb.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were spying on me," Damon mused, leaning back against the bar. She raised a brow and tapped her forehead.

"Psychic, remember?" she reminded him, and shrugged. "I saw you driving down to Georgia to talk to an old girlfriend of yours about opening the tomb."

"Are you sure you're not just dreaming about me?"

She rolled her eyes and poured some cream into her hand. "Some blonde lady who was sitting three bar stools away from you spilled her beer and it splashed onto your jeans," she began, running the white cream through her hair. "If I'm not mistaken, it was the right leg. Anyways, there was this cougar lady who walked into the bar and-"

"Fine, you made your point," he surrendered, knowing there was no point in arguing. She could be useless for many things, but she knew what she was talking about when it came to visions, and he did not want her recounting the cougar incident. "You want?" he asked, holding up the bottle of liquor. She shook her head and started working on a French braid.

"I don't want to push this coming-back-to-life thing I have going on," she stated. "How long was I out for, anyways?"

"A couple of days," he answered. "Three or four, give or take."

She let out a low whistle. "I don't know what you guys have running through your veins, but whatever it is saved me from being stuck in the hospital for two weeks," she said, lowering her face to continue braiding at the back of her head. "Are you sure that it wasn't the blood that brought me back to life?"

"I'm sure. You were already dead when I got there," he said. She grunted softly to let him know that she'd heard. "You don't remember?"

"I've been dreaming constantly ever since I passed out," she explained, tying off the end of her braid. "It's kinda hard to tell what really happened and what other people think happened, not to mention it's somewhat farfetched to think that my ancestor is bringing me back to life to finish unfinished business."

"About as farfetched as you living in the same house as the vampire who killed you?"

"Don't give me another reason to want you dead, not now that we're on considerably civil terms," she suggested. He bit back a snarky remark and changed the subject.

"You mean that you don't dream normal dreams?" he asked curiously. She sighed and leaned back in the couch, looking up at the ceiling.

"Rarely," she admitted. "Most of the time it's dumb things that I've picked up on with the whole psychic thing, like Bonnie wondering if a guy likes her, Matt and Tyler secretly freaking out about a game, and the occasional sneak peek at the explosive end of a relationship."

"Are you referring to the residential Twilight reenactment?"

She rolled her eyes. "If I was, I wouldn't be telling you about it." She cocked her head to the side, remembering something. "Speaking of which, I heard Elena found out that she's Katherine's clone. How'd that turn out?"

Damon sighed dramatically and made his way over to the couches. "Oh nothing much happened, she simply left the house a tearful mess and totaled her car crashing a vampire on the way home," he said casually, sitting on the couch across from her. "Oh, and they slept together. You must find that to be an abomination, considering your whole virginity problem." As he propped his legs on the coffee table, Mikaela frowned slightly.

"I don't see how my sex life is a problem or any of your concern," she said absently, "so stop fishing to find out if I'm a virgin or not. Do you mean Elena crashed into Lexi's boyfriend?" she questioned much more attentively than she'd told him off. Damon raised a brow.

"No," he said slowly. "We don't know who it is. Lexi's boyfriend's a vampire?"

Mikaela shrugged. "I guess that was the dream part of the past couple of days."

Damon heaved a sigh and sat back. "Speaking of the plan to get Katherine out of the tomb..."

"I haven't come up with anything solid," she said, not seeming to mind the blatant change in subject. "When I know something, I'll let you know." She looked at her watch and stood up. "I'm outta here," she announced, getting to her feet. "Elena and Bonnie want to have dinner at the Grill. You guys need anything for the house?"

Damon hummed thoughtfully. "Well, now that you mention it, I'd like a-"

"I don't think I want to hear the end of that sentence," she cut off, shaking her head. "I'll see you later on." He smirked, somehow pleased that she was back to her normal self, if not better than before. She seemed much more relaxed, a strange thing considering she'd only just found out that she was possessed by an ancestor who simply refused to die. As she started to walk away, he couldn't help but notice that she looked different. She wore a new pair of mid-calf boots, different from the more comfortable pair she usually wore, and if the deep color of her shirt was any indication, it was also new. He sniffed the air and noticed she smelled nice, as if she were wearing some sort of jasmine perfume. He frowned and stood up; something was off about her.

"Are you... feeling alright?" he asked carefully, watching as she made her way to the foyer. She gave him a quizzical look over her shoulder before continuing her walk. Was she intentionally swaying her hips the way she was?

"Fine, all things considered," she answered slowly, obviously suspicious.

"Where'd you get the new clothes?"

"I found them in my closet," she replied, still confused. "Turns out I bought them ages ago and left them here because they didn't fit. What's with twenty questions?"

"Should you really be going out? You died the other day."

Suddenly she smiled. "If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say you were worried about me."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Don't change the subject," he warned. She smirked and stopped at a small table in the foyer where her purse was. "You seem different."

"I'm alive," she said, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm just glad to not be the opposite."

"I'm so glad you have a new-found appreciation for life," he proclaimed sarcastically. She simply smiled to herself and started rummaging through her purse, making sure she had everything she'd need. He narrowed his eyes at her and decided to try a different approach. "Elizabeth?"

She turned to him, a questioning look on her face. "What about her?" she asked. Damon looked her over, searching for any indication that Elizabeth was in control. In the few times he'd come across her, Damon had noticed that Elizabeth handled herself in a way that was meant to seduce him. If the story about them being lovers was true, then it made perfect sense considering she'd have to know what made him tick about women. However, despite the fact that she was acting strange, her eyes weren't green, so the person in front of him was only Mikaela. He composed himself, reaching a final conclusion.

"You're going on a date, aren't you?"

At first she stared blankly at him, then a couple of seconds later, her face screwed in laughter. He sighed as she snickered behind her hand, a failed attempt at trying to cover up just how funny she thought his hypothesis to be. "Seriously?" she asked disbelievingly, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. When none showed, she shook her head and snapped her purse shut. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"No, I simply-"

"I live in a house with two vampires," she interrupted, holding up a hand to count off her points. She was still smiling, but he could tell that she was closing the conversation with the following list. "On Halloween I staked the girl my ex-boyfriend used to sleep with, my surrogate older brother is a vampire, my mom is allegedly a vampire slayer, and I've just found out that I have the amazing talent of being able to come back to life because I'm possessed by your ex-fiancee's ghost, the most powerful witch in my family's bloodline." She pulled open the door and stepped out. "I don't have time for dates." With that, she slammed the door shut behind her. Damon let out a low whistle and shook his head, going back to the parlor. The girl had a way with making an exit that Elena simply couldn't compete with.

* * *

"You know, Damon may be evil, but I think he's onto something."

Mikaela groaned as Elena once again breached the last subject she wanted to talk about. The three girls were sitting around a table in the middle of the restaurant eating from a basket of onion rings, catching up on everything they hadn't had the chance to talk about with the last couple of days of madness. To steer the conversation from such grave topics as Bonnie and Mikaela both almost dying the other day, Elena being Katherine's clone and Elena being adopted, Bonnie and Elena had unanimously chosen Mikaela's love life as the subject of distraction.

"Guys, I already told you, I don't have time or energy for dating," Mikaela repeated, taking a sip from her soda. "Don't we have more important things to worry about, like the new vampire in town?"

Elena sighed and looked at Bonnie, signaling it was her turn to reason. Bonnie cleared her throat. "Gavin's been asking about you-"

"I thought you guys thought he was gay."

"Well, we changed our minds," Elena declared, jumping back into the debate. "We think-"

"I'm not going on a date with Gavin," Mikaela deadpanned.

"Well, maybe-"

"What's really going on here?"

Bonnie and Elena exchanged a look. After a moment, Bonnie caved. "We're just concerned," she surrendered. "Not counting your mom or us, you're alone. Elena has Stefan and I have Grams, but you don't go to anyone with your problems. You haven't seriously dated since you and Tyler broke up, and with everything you've been going through, it'd be good to distract yourself from.. you know."

"Vampires?" Mikaela muttered, raising a brow. She didn't sense anyone eavesdropping, so she felt at ease not lowering her voice. "I'm living with them. Totally successful distraction."

"Why are you staying over there, anyway?" Elena asked, wrinkling her nose. "I can't stand being around Damon for any period of time."

Mikaela snorted. "I'd take vampires over my mom any day."

"He almost killed you," Bonnie reminded her. "_And_ me. That trumps parental issues."

"No, it doesn't. I didn't say he wasn't a jerk or that he's my new BFF; I just need a place to stay and he _did_ save my life," Mikaela argued. "I'm pretty sure that makes him a somewhat tolerable housemate." Bonnie sighed in defeat, knowing there was no getting through to her. Mikaela returned her attention to the onion rings.

She hadn't told the girls or Stefan the real reason she wasn't six feet under. It wasn't that she thought they would judge her or treat her any differently- hell, Elena was with a vampire and Bonnie was a witch-, but she was getting a stronger and stronger feeling that her curse was connected to the tomb. If Emily had cast the spell on the tomb as well as Elizabeth's curse, then the key to undoing the spell had to be the same for undoing her curse. Opening the tomb was something she knew with certainty that Stefan wouldn't approve of, so that left Damon as her only source of help.

Swallowing the sneaking feeling of guilt, Mikaela looked at her watch. She'd been there a good hour; she could sneak away and nobody would suspect where she'd gone off to. "Well, I'm heading back to the house," she announced, dropping ten dollars on the table. "I'll see you guys at the dance, right?"

"Come by my house to get ready!" Elena exclaimed suddenly. "I need some help with my outfit, and Bonnie's already going over to Caroline's." Mikaela didn't hesitate before quickly agreeing. Smiling as genuinely as she could, she turned around and made her way toward the exit.

"Well well well, if it isn't Professor Greene's brat."

Mikaela stopped, unsure she'd heard correctly. A young man in his early twenties walked up to her, a smirk playing across his lips. Unable to suppress the grin that broke out across her face, Mikaela rushed forward and gave him a quick hug. A warm feeling of arriving home that she could only feel with things associated to her father spread through her stomach.

"McKitrick, you're back!" she exclaimed. "It's been ages! How have you been? Are you working here?"

The high school football star laughed and set her down, ruffling her hair affectionately. "I graduated, and now I bartend," he said, shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal. His facade couldn't hide the underlying sense of disappointment, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to go into that deep conversation while he was at work. "How about you? Still going to that club out of town on teen night?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Nah, been caught up with school," she lied smoothly. She noticed Bonnie and Elena watching from their table, whispering to each other. She cleared her throat. "So, did you need anything, or were you just saying hi?"

He laughed and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, actually..." She chuckled, patting his arm as she passed by. She could sense from a mile away that he was trying to find the right angle to approach Bonnie from, but she'd also seen Bonnie staring at him while they'd been eating, so she knew he didn't need her help.

"I'll see you around, go talk to her before she explodes," she said with a wink, turning to leave. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"By the way," he began, and she resisted the urge to curse as she sensed what he was going to say. "Are you still having trouble because of Victory Night?"

Her smile dropped for a moment. Of course he'd mention Victory Night. She smiled a fake smile and shrugged a shoulder. "We broke up, I got revenge, now we've moved on," she said, imitating the tone he'd used to summarize the story of his life. "And now, I've gotta get going."

He gave her an understanding wink and squeezed her shoulder. "You know where to find me." She nodded and hurried out, preferring to brave the weather than the uncomfortable subject.

Ben was a very distant cousin of hers, and until her father had fallen into the coma, he'd considered her father to be his mentor. Her father had played football in high school and college, so he'd developed a special affection for Ben, enough so that the family-less young man became a familiar face at their house on holidays and Sunday dinners. One day she'd gone with him to an out-of-state game and stayed overnight at a hotel with the team, and the victory celebration had gotten out of hand. One rumor had led to another, and one night at an after-game party, Vicki had told Tyler what she'd heard happened between Mikaela and Ben. The betrayal had been enough to lower his guard for the second it took to make the bad decision that ended their relationship.

* * *

"Do you think it's working?" Elena asked quietly, watching Mikaela and the bartender talk like they were old friends. He was beyond cute and Bonnie had been eying him ever since they'd walked inside, but hadn't dared mention it in case it would interfere with her plan. "A love spell still seems kind of... Underhanded to me." Bonnie narrowed her eyes and shook her head, barely biting back her jealousy. Mikaela always managed to get the hot, older guys drooling over her without batting an eyelash and without even noticing. It was unfair to the rest of them who had to make an artistic effort to catch a guy's attention.

"It's not a love spell, it's an encouragement spell," Bonnie reminded her. That was the name she'd come up with to calm Elena down when she'd told her about the spell she'd cast the night before. "All it does is lower her guard for twenty-four hours."

"Still, it's playing with magic," Elena muttered worriedly. "If you're not careful-" Bonnie sighed and raised a brow at her friend.

"Elena, we already went through this," she reminded her. "I looked it all up. Today she's feeling happier than usual, starting to see the possibilities. Tonight I'll cast the second part that will affect guys she has a connection with. All I'm doing is lowering their inhibitions a little so that she can loosen up." When Elena didn't say anything, Bonnie squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It's perfectly safe. Tonight I'll do the last part, and after that, I'll leave it all to Mother Nature. It's just 48 hours." Her words didn't serve Elena any consolation, but there was not much that could be done any more: Bonnie couldn't stop what she had already begun in hopes to help their friend with their love life.

If it was a success, hell, she might just use it to rope in the bartender. What good was magic if it couldn't be used to broaden the possibilities once in a while?

* * *

The cold night air outside bit at her skin as she walked to her car, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Suddenly she was starting to dread the two hours that awaited her, but she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and pulled her keys out of her pocket, pressing the unlock button on the clicker. She tried to think about other things: Would Stefan and Elena last? Where had Benji disappeared to for the past couple of days? What was her mother up to? Just as she was getting close to her car, she sensed a presence and stopped in her tracks.

"Excuse me!"

Mikaela turned around, gripping her keys tightly in her hand. If he was bothering to make his presence known when there was nobody around, that meant he wasn't a vampire, so conventional weapons would work fine. Even if it was late at night and she was completely alone, Mikaela forced on that same fake smile she'd been wearing all night to greet the person.

He was easily in his mid-twenties, a man with a rough brand of handsomeness and a square jaw with light facial hair. He had broad shoulders and a healthy build, an attractive man on all accounts, but not as flirtatious as most men of his caliber had a tendency to be. "Can I help you?" she asked, gripping her bag firmly. Even handsome men could be muggers. He smiled a tight smile and held out his hand.

"Yes, I have a quick question. Zander," he introduced quickly. She placed her hand in his and he shook it briefly. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I asked the bartender and he told me that you're the one to ask about staying at the Salvatore boarding house."

"It's my godfather's business," she clarified, watching him cautiously for any indication of craziness, "but I think he closed it down a while ago."

"Oh, that's a shame," he said, and strangely enough, she didn't sense any disappointment from him at all. "Well then, I guess I'll try the hotel on the main road then."

"There _are_ some bed-and-breakfast's in town," she said, jabbing a thumb down the road. "You could go check if there are any vacancies."

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "Yeah, sounds good," he said absently, nodding and looking her over. In most situations she would have assumed that he was checking her out, but the discomfort that crawled through her skin was a different kind of discomfort. He wasn't seeing her, and he wasn't seeing her body; she saw the image of a bishop on a chess board and decided she needed to get away from him. She cleared her throat and stepped back. She was running out of time and couldn't waste another second picking apart the man's psyche.

"Good luck," she said, closing the conversation. "If you need any more help, ask the bus boy, not the bartender." Before he could say anything else, she climbed into her car and started the engine. When she looked up, he was gone as if he'd never been there. Scared of the possible reasons for disappearing men, among which were hallucinations and magic, Mikaela kicked the car into reverse and drove off to the old Mystic Falls cemetery. There was only one way to determine if the last vision she'd had in her unconscious state held any truth, and the prospect of what she had to do to find out led her to wonder if maybe it she'd have been better off staying asleep a couple more days.

* * *

When they were human, Stefan used to talk about being able to disappear into a different world when he was reading a good book or writing in his journal. Damon had never been able to understand that, and as he scoured through the journals, he felt himself growing more and more impatient. Were the Founders all so dense that not a single one of them knew about the tomb under the church?

Heavy footsteps sounded through the house, announcing Mikaela's arrival. Figuring it was as good a distraction as any, Damon heaved a sigh and stood up, expecting her to walk into the parlor to greet him or Stefan like she always did. Her footsteps carried away from the parlor and toward her apartment. Curious, Damon followed at vampire speed. As he set foot on the landing, she walked into her room, and by the time he got to the doorway, she'd kicked off her boots and collapsed on the bed.

"What do you want?" she asked tiredly, not bothering to lift her face from the bedsheets so that he could hear her better. What he could hear of her tone was much grumpier than he'd expected it to be.

"Rough night?" he asked, fully entering the room. She didn't object, but he could tell that her patience was thin. She rolled over and dropped an arm across her face.

"Just trying to figure out what dreams were real and which ones weren't," she answered. "So far, no luck."

He looked around the room, taking in what was wrong with the picture. The boots thrown across the floor were an old pair and were caked with dirt, not to mention that her shirt was just a tattered gray Old Navy T-shirt, a stark contrast to the flirtatious outfit she'd left the house with. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her. "Where did you _really _go?" he asked testily, stepping forward so he stood at the foot of the bed. "You're up to something." She peeked out from under her arm at the door before answering.

"Is Stefan home?" she asked under her breath. He shook his head "no" and she quickly stood up, closing and locking the door. As an afterthought, she pulled her iPod out of her pocket and plugged it into the radio, putting on some song by a teen boy band. "Seriously?" he asked. She ignored him and took a deep breath, a barely suppressed smile breaking out on her face. He'd never seen her that excited before, and surprisingly, it made him feel excited, too. Something was happening, and he wanted to know what.

"I've almost got the grimoire," she stated in a whisper, stepping closer to him so he could hear her better.

If he'd tried to come up with something equally as anti-climatic, it would have been something along the lines of, "I had spaghetti for dinner." He cocked his head to the side. "I'm lost," he stated bluntly. She sighed, apparently having hoped that he would catch on.

"You need Emily's grimoire to open the tomb," she explained, still keeping her voice down to a whisper despite the music. Apparently she wasn't taking any risks with Stefan arriving and overhearing their conversation. "Bree didn't tell you about it, but I could have saved you a trip and told you that it's basic Witchcraft 101 that the reversal of a witch's spell is in her grimoire. I had a vision while I was knocked out, showing the grimoire buried underground. I just need to figure out where it is."

He stopped breathing for a moment, not sure if he'd heard her correctly. She'd almost found the key? Was it even possible that, for all of his searching, he'd come up empty-handed while all she'd had to do was take a nap? Gears started to turn in his head, and suddenly she didn't seem as useless as before. She opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a notepad, holding it up so he could see the front page. On it, _Jonathon Gilbert _was written in large cursive. Once he'd read it, she tore off the page and started to tear it into little pieces.

"The answer is in his journal," she said, stuffing the pieces of paper into her pocket. "If you can get that, I can get the grimoire and we can open the tomb and break my curse. Two birds, one witchy stone."

"You want to break your curse?" he repeated doubtfully, raising a brow. That was a bit of a shocker. She nodded. "The curse that keeps saving your life?"

"The curse that allows one of my Civil War Era ancestors to possess me and relive her romantic moments with the lover who doesn't even remember her," she shot back. "The curse that gets in the way of my magic, the curse that doesn't let me live a minutely normal life as a normal witch. I don't want to be possessed: this is my body, and I'm through with sharing."

She sounded sincere, but it wasn't nearly enough. He looped his thumbs in his pockets and stepped forward. "Why are you telling me about this now?" he asked, gauging her expression. She groaned almost inaudibly, running a hand through her hair. "You could just be trying to lead me on, helping Stefan on the side-"

"Stefan just wants to get rid of the grimoire, not help me out on the middle ground."

"But if you're on middle ground-"

"You are insufferable," she hissed, her patience finally cracking under the pressure. "I could just find the grimoire on my own, break my curse, and not let you know until I've hidden it so far into oblivion, not even you'll be able to find it!" She scoffed, shaking her head and grabbing her towel off a bedpost. "Forget it. Do what you want, don't help. Just don't get in my way."

Before she could pull open the door, he stepped in front of her, cutting her off. He could be distrusting, but one thing was to be distrusting and another was to be downright stupid. She crossed her arms and raised her chin challengingly. He stared her down for a couple of seconds; when she didn't waver, he finally gave in, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll get the journal," he said, dropping his arms back down to his sides. "Once we have it, then what?"

She took a step back and relaxed, satisfied. "Then we read it and try to find any clues about what was done to Emily's stuff when they burned her," she answered. "You know more about what Mystic Falls was like back in 1864, so chances are that between the two of us, we'll be able to figure out where it is."

"And what are you going to be doing while I get the journal?"

She paused. "...Personal business," she finally answered tightly. Damon considered pressing the subject, but figured the teenager could only be pushed so far before she blocked him out completely.

"And just how up to speed are you on vampire business?"

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall by the door. "Logan Fell got turned into a vampire," she began, ticking the events off on her fingers. "He tortured you, then got staked. You've been spending the past couple of days reading Journals. There's also another vampire in town who's been stalking Elena, named Noah, if I'm not mist-"

"Now you've stopped sounding psychic," he interrupted, rolling his eyes. "God, you're hopeless. Nobody's stalking Elena." She glared and opened her mouth to argue, but he interrupted. "But there _is_ a new vampire, the one that Elena crashed."

"Well, he's stalking her," she insisted. "I saw it. He's a vampire with a hoodie and boots, right?" Damon stopped teasing and nodded in confirmation. "What do you guys know?"

"We don't know anything," he admitted. "We didn't even know he was stalking her. You say his name's Noah?"

"Yeah," she replied with a nod. "Does that help?"

"Not at all."

She groaned, dropping her head back against the wall. "She's safe for today, but tomorrow she shouldn't be left alone."

"Well then you be sure to tell Stefan. I'll be busy." That reminded him of something. "Speaking of which, we can't let Stefan or Elena find out about this," he warned. "Saint Stefan's already suspicious, so don't let him catch onto the fact that we're best buds now."

"We're not best buds," she muttered, rolling her eyes. He smirked.

"See? You're catching on already," he said encouragingly.

She put her hand on the door knob. "Are we done?" she asked, raising a brow expectantly. "I need a shower." He smirked and pulled open the door with exaggerated flourish.

"After you."

Not bothering to respond to his teasing, she moved past him to the bathroom down the hall. Damon looked after her, feeling that biting hunger start in the pit of his stomach as he watched her. It was strange; naturally, all humans provoked a certain sense of hunger in him, some more than others. She, however, was becoming something of an exception. She stirred up every kind of hunger in him, at times simultaneously, such as at that moment. With women he'd hunted, it'd been normal to feel sexual desire during the hunt as well as a longing for blood (he had needs like anybody else), but it was the chase that was exhilarating. He'd already "chased" Mikaela and already tasted her blood on more than one occasion: Why didn't the hunger fade? She should have already bored him like Caroline, and yet lately he found himself struggling more than usual not to pursue a situation where he could either attempt to attack or seduce.

Then again, she wasn't a woman easily attacked _or_ seduced, was she?

Damon let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to clear his head. He was thinking far too much about the latter of the two possible outcomes of succumbing to his hunger, and that wasn't good. He was hungry, that had to be the explanation. Running at vampire speed to the kitchen, he jerked a bottle of O-positive out of the vegetable drawer and drained it into a glass, lifting it to his lips before the glass had a chance to fill. He closed his eyes and focused on the blood, allowing only thoughts of Katherine to invade his mind as he drank.

Katherine. Nothing else could matter more than Katherine, not Mikaela and most definitely not his physical needs, not when they interfered with getting the job done. What he _needed_ to do was get her out of the tomb, period. He finished the glass and squeezed the remainder of the blood into it, feeling somewhat more relaxed than before. He'd solved that problem, at least for a little while.

He was just hungry, that was all...

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Next chapter, 50's dance, results of the love spell, and vampire action! Review and I'll get it out by the end of the week!**


	21. Dressed to Play the Part

**Author's Note:**

**Summer school is finished! While this may seen irrelevant to you, dear readers, it isn't. In only these past two days of freedom, I have completed this chapter, chapter 22 and started chapter 23, so with your continual support, we will keep this story moving faster than I've been able to for the past couple of months. So, here you guys go! Enjoy!**

* * *

_The very air seemed to press on from all sides as she ran, holding her back, not allowing her to reach the exit in time. It loomed before her, a pair of standard double doors with small glass paned windows and a red "EXIT" sign shining over it. Bright, cheerful posters were plastered all over the walls, reminding everyone of the 50's dance that would be over in only a couple of hours. Her footsteps sounded muffled as she fought drag, air resistance and every other aspect of physics to do what was impossible, to outrun a vampire. _

_An Elvis song played mockingly in the background, drilling into her head and not allowing her to think. She couldn't hear him behind her, but she knew it was about to happen: she'd had the vision, and she knew he would seemingly appear out of nowhere, cover her mouth with an ether-soaked handkerchief, and then-_

Mikaela woke up from the nightmare with a start, her heart racing and a cold sweat coating her skin. Looking around wildly, she felt relief spread through her as she took in the meticulous appearance of her room in the boarding house, exactly the way it had been when she'd gone to sleep that night: empty and devoid of vampires. She dropped back onto her pillow and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. It had just been a nightmare, nothing more. She was tangled up in the bedsheets with her shirt rolled up indecently high, most likely from tossing and turning fitfully in bed. Sending up a quick prayer for the energy that she didn't have to get through the day, she rolled over to get out of bed.

The loud thump as she fell to the floor alerted the household that she was awake. As she untangled herself from the bedsheets and rubbed her shoulder, the bedroom door creaked open. Mikaela didn't bother even looking up as she tossed the sheets back onto the bed and pulled down the hem of her shirt.

"I give the dive a-"

"Six for effort, I know," she cut off, rolling her shoulders. "Good morning, Damon."

He looked as irritating as ever and just as handsome, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. Suddenly she was glad that she'd decided to wear more decent sleepwear (yoga pants and a camisole) rather than her customary shorts and tank top; there was no telling anymore when he'd simply pop up in her room uninvited. Seven o'clock in the morning and already he was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt, prepared for the day ahead. "So, you ready to get to work today? I, for one, am self-inviting myself to Elena's house to search for the journal," he announced cheerfully. She stood up and tapped her ear meaningfully, silently asking him if Stefan was in the house. He nodded in confirmation, but shrugged a shoulder. "Stefan's busy with Elena downstairs, so he isn't listening. We have some vampire business going on, just like you said. Ready to multi-task?"

She walked into the closet. "What's going on?" she called out, sorting through the few hangers. "Is she being stalked like I told you?"

"Yup," he answered, moving to stand by the entrance to the closet. "He called her cell phone and is trying to scare her. Is that what you saw?"

She nodded and pulled out a pair of jeans. "I saw him showing up at her house, actually," she said. Not much in the mood to get dressed up, she pulled out an emerald green hoodie and grabbed a camisole to wear under it. "Stefan will watch her for most of the day then, right?" When he didn't say anything, she turned to him expectantly. "Hello? Damon, this means he'll be too busy watching Elena to watch you." He still didn't say anything, but simply looked at her with narrowed eyes and cocked his head to the side. "What? It's me, Mikaela, not Eliza-"

"Why are you so calm about this?" he asked, not taking his eyes away from hers. "You've known Elena for all of your life, and she's being stalked by a vampire. I thought that would be enough to spark a reaction, even from you." She let out an almost inaudible sigh and grabbed her boots off the floor.

"She doesn't die," she stated. "As long as Stefan is keeping an eye on her, she'll be fine."

"And you're sure about that?" he pressed. "Your visions haven't exactly been 100% accurate."

"Why are you suddenly pretending to care?" she snapped, making to shove past him. He raised a brow and shifted in front of her, blocking the exit. She opened her mouth to argue, but choked on the words. The sound of a massive amount of water going down a drain sounded in the background, and in a second she was out.

_She dialed numbers on her cell phone as she ran, barely holding back to urge to scream for help. Elvis's voice filled her ears and the delighted sounds of students enjoying the party mocked her for being so close, yet so far. As she rounded a corner, she lifted the phone to her ear, but all she got was the "busy" tone. Not wasting a second, she dialed another number; Elena's voicemail. Cursing, she finally called Stefan. It rang once, and then went straight to voicemail._

_Of course they would all be too busy._

_She caught sight of the exit and picked up speed, but-_

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and another around her shoulders, keeping her from slumping to the floor like her body wanted to. Her head lolled back as she was overcome with dizziness from the sudden vision, but even then she couldn't clearly see the ceiling of her closet. "Whoa there, Mikaela, what-"

"It's nothing," she said immediately, squeezing her eyes shut and closing her mouth. She grabbed onto his upper arms as the wave of dizziness passed, and as far as she could hear, he didn't object. She opened her eyes after a couple of seconds, but the world was still spinning and she closed them again with a groan. Damon lifted her up and, as was only possible with a vampire's speed, set her down on the edge of her bed in half of a second.

She leaned her elbows on her knees and held her head between her hands. Finally she felt the dizziness fade away and opened her eyes. "You're shaking," Damon stated. For a moment he actually sounded concerned, but the could just as easily have been a misconception on her part. "What did you see?"

The explanation was on the tip of her tongue, but the sound of footsteps kept her from continuing. Elena appeared in the doorway, a questioning look on her face. "Hey Kaela," she greeted awkwardly, looking between Mikaela sitting on the bed and Damon kneeling in front of her. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine and dandy," Mikaela answered automatically, shooting Elena one of her best fake smiles. "And you?"

"...Not so fine," she admitted after a second's hesitation. "Did Damon tell you what happened?"

She nodded. "He's already been invited in," she said, looking down as she sorted through her memory. "He was the... The pizza guy, I believe. He'll be back tonight, so we need a plan."

Elena's face blanched and she swallowed. "Are you sure?" she asked. Mikaela opened her mouth to say something, but Damon answered for her.

"Psychic, remember?" he said, imitating the way she always said it to him. "Of course she's sure. The vampire has to die." Mikaela kicked his foot meaningfully, but he didn't even seem to notice. Elena nodded, setting her jaw.

"I'll go talk to Stefan," she said, turning around and walking back downstairs.

Damon waited a couple of seconds before letting out a low whistle. "I don't give you enough credit for the first class actress you are. I couldn't even tell that only a couple of seconds before, you were swooning over my good looks and-"

"Of course," she muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"You do realize that you have friendship issues, right?"

"Oh shut it," she snapped irritably. She hated it when he got involved in her personal life- which, given their circumstances, was constantly. "You're such a-"

_She clawed at the hand clamped over her mouth, but it was no use. The sharp ether shot up through her nose and started to fog her vision, silently telling her she'd already lost. All she saw was the hallway slipping away as if through the rear view mirror of a car as he dragged her..._

She blinked to be met with Damon's expectant look. "I'm such a what? Jerk? Dick? Articulate, woman, please," he urged. Not wanting to explain what happened, Mikaela shot to her feet and hurried to the closet, grabbing her clothes off the floor. "You're acting weird. You know, weirder than usual."

"I'm fine," she stated, picking her towel off the hook behind the door. "Let me know what we decide to do about our vampire situation, and we'll talk about the journal stuff tonight."

"Hey-!"

She didn't wait to hear what he had to say and rushed for the bathroom down the hall.

* * *

"You know, for a girl who should have dreamed what she'd be wearing today, you're taking a long time," Damon called, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall outside of her room. After a short discussion, all four of them (Stefan, Elena, Damon and Mikaela) had decided that it would be best to simply go to the dance and wait for the vampire to show up. For security purposes, Stefan and Elena were attached at the hip, and Damon and Mikaela were to go to the dance together. Unfortunately, between showering and choosing the "perfect outfits", the girls had dragged out the actual getting-to-the-dance part of the plan. It was six o'clock and Mikaela had dead bolted the door shut behind her half an hour before after a shower to get dressed for the 50's dance.

"You be quiet, you aren't even getting dressed up!" she shouted, her voice sounding clear to him despite the door separating them. He heard her bump into something and curse under her breath, and he couldn't help but smirk. "Did Elena leave already?" she asked, louder than normal as if to cover up the fact that she'd just bumped into the edge of her bed.

"About fifteen minutes ago," he answered, checking his watch. "Stefan wanted to sniff around, see if he could find anything."

She groaned quietly, but he couldn't determine why. "You should tell him to check the hallways," she suggested. Her voice sounded strained, as if she was stretching.

"The hallways?"

"I keep seeing a vampire in a hallway, but because I haven't been to school in a couple of days, I haven't seen the decorations and can't tell you which hallway it is."

Damon pulled his cellphone out of his pocket to text the message to Stefan. "You know, I have to admit I'm impressed," he said, leaning closer to the door so she could hear him better as he texted. "If I could see the future, I'd play the lottery more often."

Suddenly the door opened and she stood there, her cheeks red and a frustrated look on her face. She held her dress to her chest with both hands, but the back of the dress was wide open. He raised a brow and pocketed his phone. "Well, I have to say that I approve of your statement," he said, looking her up and down. "Dresses always look better on attractive women with the zippers down." She glared at him and clenched her teeth.

"I need some help with the zipper," she said reluctantly. "Elena left, and I think it's caught." Damon considered saying something to further her embarrassment, but one look at her red cheeks and the way she gripped her dress much too tightly convinced him to hold back his comments. He sighed as if it were a terrible burden to help her and turned her around by her shoulders. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said, and almost choked on his breath. The feel of her bare skin seemed to fan a spark into a flame, and suddenly he felt he couldn't move. Her jet hair was like a smoky curtain covering her body, the straightened locks the only barrier between them. Hunger started to twist inside his stomach, and he felt the veins around his eyes darken and his fangs aching to come out. Apparently coming to the conclusion that he was waiting for something, she gathered up her hair and hung it over one shoulder.

"I'm sorry about this," she apologized, lowering her head. "I would've asked Elena, but..."

"She's not here," he finished distractedly, lifting his hands off her shoulders. Her entire back was now exposed to the curve of her spine, revealing smooth, creamy skin that he had to reign in the urge to touch. "Nobody's here." He could have sworn he heard her heart rate pick up slightly at that last comment, so he took a deep breath and held back his words. He had to keep it together. Forcing himself to keep his composure, he reached down and gripped the zipper, slowly lifting it up. Unfortunately, just as he'd raised the zipper halfway, she shifted and the backs of his fingers grazed her skin.

He'd always prided himself in having a good sense of self control, but at that moment, that fraction of a fraction of an inch of contact was enough to make him jerk the zipper off of her dress. He cursed and lifted a hand to his forehead, bracing himself for the anger she was sure to unleash on him once she noticed. Instead, she slumped forward and sighed.

"You broke it, didn't you?" she asked. He didn't answer, but she didn't wait for him too, either. She simply walked back into her room and into the closet. "I guess I'll just have to wear The Dress, then."

Damon stood there stationary, trying to figure out what was going on as he listened to her getting changed only a couple of feet away. What was wrong with him? Why did he suddenly feel threatened by his own desire? Why was he suddenly hyper aware of the fact that they were both standing in a bedroom where anything could happen? The whole attraction thing was getting out of control, and if it continued to go on the way it was, there would be few options left for either of them, none of which would end peacefully. Less than a minute later, she exited the closet with her backup outfit, and he hid his conflict behind a smirk as he crossed his arms.

The original dress had been yellow, but this one was a strapless white dress with black polka dots and a black sash tied around the waist. She wore a black choker with a silver pendant, pearl drop earrings and a thick white headband in her hair, allowing him a clear view of her face. Strangely enough, she wore something like "surrender" as the expression of choice. She held out her arms, silently asking him for his opinion.

He ran his eyes over her twice before finally answering. "You know, I think you should thank me for breaking that zipper," he said, nodding appreciatively. She smiled, but even he could tell that it was only half genuine. "What's wrong?"

He was partially surprised that the question slipped out, but then again, what with his runaway emotions, it was no surprise that he'd start expressing concern along with lust towards a girl he was certain would have gladly staked him not so long ago. He wasn't sure what was starting to shift, but it was definitely away from them being mortal enemies and more towards them being something close to friends.

Friends?

He hadn't even had a drink and already he was starting to lose touch with reality.

She blinked and quickly lowered her eyes. "I just... I saw this dress in a vision," she answered hesitantly. "I get attacked by the vampire at the dance." That was definitely not at the top of his list of possible reasons to why she didn't want to wear the dress. "I'm guessing he gets to me before Elena, but all I know is that I can't see past the moment he knocks me out."

"Is that why you were acting so weird this morning?" he questioned. "You were having visions?" She nodded infinitesimally, and cleared her throat.

"Let's get going," she suggested, and hurried past him, grabbing a black hand bag on the way out. He kept pace next to her as they made their way to the foyer. "You drive or do I drive?" she asked, holding up her keys. He raised a brow and pulled out his keys, silently answering her question. She sighed. "Fine."

He opened the door for her and held out his arm. "Shall we?" he asked with exaggerated gallantry. She rolled her eyes and placed her arm in his.

"You're so weird," she muttered. Even if she sounded indifferent in regards to the gesture, Damon couldn't help but notice out of the corner of his eye that a hint of a smile lifted at the edge of her lips.

* * *

He watched from the trees as the couple exited the boarding house arm in arm. Neither spoke as they walked to the man's car, but even without hearing him speak to her, body language made it clear that she was important to him. The girl looked anxious about something, but that was to be expected: he'd been forewarned that she was the daughter of a witch and a psychic, and that chances were that she'd be able to sense him coming.

The man opened the door for her, but stopped her with a hand on her upper arm. "You're going to be fine," he assured her, looking straight into her eyes. She set her jawed and nodded, but even he could tell that she wasn't convinced. The older Salvatore reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle filled with a lightly colored liquid, similar to a bottle of medicine for an injection. "We'll be watching you and Elena, but take this just in case."

She looked at him questioningly, but he was already circling to the other side of the car. Not wasting much more time, she dropped the bottle into her purse and slipped into the passenger seat. Zander watched them drive away and picked up his backpack, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

The road to revenge always started best when everyone was looking in the other direction.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Once I get three reviews, I will post up Chapter 22 ^_^ Sorry for the cliffhanger, but thanks for everything guys!**

**Take care!**


	22. Are You Lonesome Tonight?

**Author's Note:**

**I'm a woman of my word. Here's chapter 22, as promised, thanks to the three reviews from three of my lovely readers. Hearing (or reading) what you guys thought about the chapters made my day!**

**As a side note, I'm aware that the song mentioned in the chapter was sung by Elvis in 1960, which means it's technically not from the 50's****. Also, Elvis made his debut in the 50's, then blew up in the 60's and 70's as well. Just figured I'd state that before I received any hate mail about not being era-appropriate, LOL.**

**Enjoy ^_^.**

* * *

There was something about waiting for your impending doom that could put a blemish even on the uppity atmosphere of Mystic Falls' High School 50's Dance. Mikaela stood by the punch table sipping a cup of- big surprise- punch, watching the students dance and have an overall good time. Damon had gone to circle the perimeter of the gymnasium, but Elena and Stefan were close by, dancing to a cheerful song while Stefan kept an eye open for someone with a hoodie. She thanked the heavens that the song wasn't an Elvis song, and even if it was a 50's dance, she prayed that the King of Rock and Roll's voice wouldn't be making an appearance.

"The 50's- not my favorite era."

Mikaela jumped as Benji appeared next to her, a knowing smile in his pale green eyes. "Well, if it isn't my favorite immortal," she said, smiling widely. "Where have you been the past couple of days?"

He shrugged and leaned back against the table, crossing his arms. "Visiting an old friend of mine," he said casually. "Her husband has been out on business for the past two months, so I stayed at her place." Mikaela crossed her arms and raised a brow expectantly. He rolled his eyes and groaned. "Don't judge, you wouldn't understand. I'm a vampire. I can't do serious relationships without killing somebody."

"So instead you run a personal season of Desperate Housewives?"

"Exactly," he agreed. "I don't get caught, she doesn't expect anything, and no one gets hurt. It's a win-win situation."

"Never mind the vow taken to be faithful until death do you part."

"Elizabeth would have gotten it," he dismissed, waving a hand. "She was all into that 'love conquers all' bullshit."

"Only I'm not Elizabeth, and I get the feeling we're not talking about love here," she mused, taking a sip of punch. Benji sighed, but brushed the comment off.

"Speaking of breaking the curse and opening the tomb," he said loudly, "I might be able to help." Mikaela stiffened: what was with him and breaching the few topics she couldn't talk about? She meaningfully nodded toward Stefan and Elena dancing only a couple of yards away, hoping he'd get the hint. He snorted and leaned closer. "Don't worry, he's too busy looking for the other vampire to listen in on our conversation."

"You know about that?"

"Obviously," he muttered condescendingly. This time Mikaela rolled her eyes. A slow song started to play, so he leaned closer and lowered his voice, unable to depend on the cover of music. "Honey, I know about everything that goes on in this town."

"Good for you, now how do you want to help?" she hissed, nervous that Stefan would notice them talking and decide to listen. "Do you know where the journal is?"

"I know who'll get it in the end," he said carefully. "Once they get it, then I'll get it from them."

"'Them'?"

"The less you know about _them_, the better," he stated. "What you need to worry about is what to do with Katherine."

That caught her by surprise. "Katherine?" she repeated doubtfully. He nodded. "What the hell does she have to do with my curse?"

"Killing her will end everything."

She felt like something twisted in her stomach. "I have to... _kill _Katherine?" she clarified. He nodded, keeping his eyes on Stefan to make sure he wasn't listening. "Why?"

"There were several conditions to the curse, and getting revenge was one of them," he explained, stopping to look around as if he'd heard something. "My best guess is that since she took away the life Elizabeth wanted, by taking her life..."

"I can't kill her, though," Mikaela argued. "Damon's helping me, and he'd—!"

"Well it seems like you only have two options then," he cut off. "Either find another way to break the curse, or find a way to get into that tomb without the vampire who can't even remember his own fiancee."

"There has to be another way," she pressed. "If I can find a way to make him remember-"

"That's impossible without Emily's talisman," he interrupted with barely held back annoyance. "Look, in the end it's your choice what you do, but I'll do what I have to do to get my sister back, including kill that bitch. I'll get you the journal, and you can take it from there."

She had a response on the tip of her tongue, but in a second he'd disappeared. She looked around wildly for him over the sea of students and finally spotted him on the other side of the gymnasium, walking up to Bonnie and Caroline with a charming smile on his face. She hadn't been alone for even ten seconds before another immortal entered her field of vision.

"Would you like to dance?" Damon asked, extending his hand. A smile played on his lips as if they were sharing a secret joke, a joke to which she was the one person not clued in. The slow song was ending, but figuring that anything was better than waiting anxiously for a specific Elvis song to play, she placed her hand in his.

"Did you already get turned down by half of the student body?" she asked as he led her onto the dance floor. He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smirk mixed with an appraising look (if that was even possible). He stopped and held out his other arm for her to move into. Keeping her eyes on his face, she stepped into his frame, placing her hands on his shoulders as he placed his on her waist. It wasn't the kind of dancing she was used to, but the position felt natural with him- strange, considering the last time they'd danced, it'd been in a completely different context and not at all as comfortable as it was then and there.

"As a matter of fact, you're the first girl I've asked to dance tonight," he stated, cocking his head to the side as they started to sway. He led smoothly, clearly an expert at dancing. "You should give yourself more credit. You clean up nicely, considering it's a 50's themed shindig."

She smiled at the strange compliment. "Thank you," she said with a small nod. "And you look... Exactly the same as you always do."

"Why thank you."

They both smiled as the song ended. Rather than pull away, he stayed where he was and waited for the next song. His hands felt strangely warm through the fabric of the dress, but she tried not to focus on that in case he noticed. The last thing she needed was for him to have more reason to tease her. A soft tune started to play, so after an exchanged look, they continued to dance. The song sounded familiar, but Mikaela couldn't quite place where she knew it from. "Have you seen anything?" he asked quietly, looking around as they turned. She shook her head. "Neither have we. What do your visions say?"

"That she'll get chased down the halls and fight for her life in the cafeteria, but you guys will save her," she answered.

"And you?"

"He'll get me in a different hallway when they play an Elvis song."

Damon scoffed. "At a 50's dance? No way," he said sarcastically. "Can you be more specific?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'll know it when I hear-"

_Are you lonesome tonight?_

_Do you miss me tonight?_

_Are you sorry we drifted apart...?_

She felt the color drain from her face as Elvis's irreplaceable voice thrummed through the gymnasium speakers, filling the space with the background music to her vision. She gripped his shoulders tightly and he frowned, giving her a questioning look. "This is the song," she whispered. Her heart started to pound in her throat and her breathing picked up. "By the end of this song-!"

"Calm down," he said quietly, and pulled her closer. "You said it happens in a hallway, right?" She nodded, not trusting her own voice. "Then we'll just keep you out of the hallway."

"But-!"

"Trust me, okay?"

She gulped and forced her feet to move, following his lead. He swayed them side to side, turning so that he could scope one side of the gym while she scoped out the other. Sweat had broken out across her skin, but even that didn't cool the suffocating heat she could have sworn filled the gymnasium. The song induced an unreasonable fear in her, unreasonable because even she knew that she was overreacting: the situation was nothing like in her vision, save for the music. She needed to pull herself together.

She heard a soft rumbling sound that went along with the song. It was so quiet that at first she wondered if it was her imagination. Momentarily distracted, she listened more closely to the sound, and was surprised by what she heard. It couldn't be, could it? After a couple of seconds, there was no mistake. Disregarding her vision as a nightmare, she looked up at him curiously.

"Are you singing?" she asked. He didn't say anything, but he avoided her gaze and the sound stopped. She couldn't help it: she smiled. "Damon, you were singing to the song, weren't you?"

"You try living in the American 50's and 60's," he said, rolling his eyes. "You couldn't even _think_ of walking into a diner without hearing Elvis or Johnny Cash."

She giggled and they elapsed into silence, albeit a considerably less tense silence than the former. Elena and Stefan weren't around, but Benji flanked by Bonnie and Caroline watched her dancing without even trying to hide their staring. Benji winked and lifted his drink to her as if toasting, but the two girls looked like they had saucers for eyes and were trying to catch flies with their dropped jaws. She lowered her face and thanked God when Damon turned so she couldn't see them anymore. The song wasn't long compared to the other tracks that had been played throughout the night, and sooner than she'd expected it to, it ended. Once that last note faded and she was safe in the arms of a vampire that wasn't trying to kidnap her, she felt a wave of relief.

"It didn't happen," she said quietly, closing her eyes. The vision that had practically paralyzed her with fear had proven to only be a powerful nightmare. When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised by how close Damon was standing to her, but not as surprised as she was by the look on his face.

Light shadows surrounded his eyes, eyes that were fixed intensely on her. She'd never been looked at with such force, with a look that seemed to make her shiver under it and made everyone around them disappear. His hands on her waist tightened their hold, keeping her body within a hair's breadth of his. He took in a ragged breath and his eyes lowered to her lips, pure hunger written on his every feature. She gulped and felt the blood rush to her face, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Back at the boarding house she'd sensed a strange emotion off of him like attraction, but this was much stronger than that. Her heart was racing, but she may as well have been a statue for all of the effort she was making to escape.

Why couldn't she move away?

Better yet, why the hell didn't she want to?

Within a second it was over. His face cleared and he released her, taking a step back to put distance between them. He cleared his throat and pulled his phone out of his pocket to keep from meeting her eyes. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat as well, at as much of a loss as he was about what to do. Luckily he received a phone call at just that moment and she was saved the energy.

"Yeah?" he answered. Immediately she saw his whole body tense. "I'm on my way." He looked at her and explained in a rush. "He went straight for Elena."

"Go," she said immediately, waving him off. He weaved through the crowd at vampire speed and she sighed, shaking her head. All of the fear she'd felt about getting attacked was gone now that the vampire was about to be apprehended, but the one bad thing made way for several even more complicated problems. Damon was confusing his blood lust for normal lust, her nightmares were acting like visions, and a vampire was stalking her neighbor. The world had to be ending.

As if nothing else could go wrong, the fire alarm blared to life and the sprinklers turned on. Of course the football team would try and sabotage their least favorite dance. Mikaela groaned as the gymnasium erupted in screams and the girls ran out en masse in the futile hope of saving their hairdo's from the devastation of sprinkler water. Their dates ran out after them, making it clear that it would only be a matter of seconds before the gym was completely emptied. She stood still and lifted her face to the water, allowing the cold droplets to sprinkle over her skin and sink into her hair and clothes. If she was going to get wet, it may as well be while conserving her voice. She figured once the human stampede was over, she'd be able to find her way to where Elena was and make sure she was okay.

Despite the fire alarm, music could still be heard playing, albeit lightly, in the background. She listened absently as she waited for the rumble of footsteps to fade away, but a single pair stood out from all the rest, coming to a stop behind her. Just as she opened her eyes to get a look at who it was, she heard a short part of the song and froze.

_Does your memory stray…?_

The DJ had made a mix of slow, romantic songs from the 50's, and Elvis's "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" made a double appearance in the track. Her vision hadn't been a nightmare, it'd simply been delayed. Setting her jaw, she turned around and faced him.

The disappearing man who'd asked her about the boarding house the other night stood there, a determined look on his face. Suddenly she could sense the ill intent she hadn't been able to catch onto the other night, and she felt a cold regret fill her at the terrible realization: she'd assumed that the vampire from her vision was the same one stalking Elena, but it was the total opposite. She'd had her own vampire watching her all along, patiently waiting for the one moment when everyone who could have possibly helped her would be too busy to watch her. Even when they did happen to realize she was gone, the fire alarm and the sprinklers would be making too much noise for anyone to hear her scream.

"Zander," she choked, cursing when she heard her voice shake. Hoping he wouldn't notice, she slipped her hand into her purse and wrapped her fingers around the vial that Damon had given her. It was at least worth a shot. "W-what are you doing here?" she asked, quickly unscrewing the cap on the bottle. His eyes almost seemed regretful, but he lost absolutely no purpose as he stepped forward.

"I'm sorry," he said with finality.

Not waiting another second, she tossed the vervain at his face with as much strength as she could muster and turned tail to run for her life.

* * *

"So, seeing as _I_ staked him, does that mean you get clean up duty?" Damon asked, nudging Noah's body with his toe. Between him and Stefan, they'd managed to both kill and get some information out of the stalker. None of the information they'd gotten out of him was new, at least not to Damon (the location of the grimoire was in Johnathon Gilbert's journal, blah blah blah...), but it meant that Stefan and Elena were now clued in. Stefan gave him a tired look and Damon rolled his eyes. "Fine, I've got it."

"Is Mikaela alright?" Elena asked, the question directed at Damon. "I thought he was supposed to get to her first." He nodded and pulled out his phone. Two missed calls from Mikaela.

"I left her on the dance floor," he said, pressing the "call back" option. "Seeing as this guy was too busy trying to get a bite out of you, though, I'm sure she's fine. She chalked it up to a nightmare." He waited for her to pick up her phone, but after one ring, it went to voicemail. He frowned and dialed the number again. "Well, that's weird. First she calls and then she doesn't answer."

"Maybe she ran out with everyone when the alarm went off?" Stefan suggested. Both Elena and Damon shook their heads.

"This matters to much to her," Damon stated. "She should have been coming right after me." When she continued to reject his calls, he nodded at Elena. "Your turn."

"Maybe she's just ignoring you," Stefan said. Damon laughed sarcastically.

"Oh you're just _so_ full of wit, Stefan."

Elena pulled out her phone and dialed Mikaela's number, but shook her head. "It goes straight to voicemail. She called me, too, but I didn't hear it."

Before he could say anything, the power went out, submerging them all in darkness. Elena leaned closer to Stefan. "What's going on with the school?" Stefan muttered. Elena groaned.

"The football team always pulls the fire alarm on the dance," she explained. "I doubt Mikaela will stick around now. She's most likely calling Tyler and giving him a piece of her mind like last year."

Damon frowned and listened for footsteps, but all he could hear was the fire alarm and the sound of water falling. He could see perfectly fine in the darkness, but without his hearing, he was practically useless. That was far too inconvenient, and it seemed like too much of a coincidence that the alarm had gone off the moment he'd left her alone, quickly followed a power outage. "Something isn't right," he stated, and moved past them. "I'll be right back."

"Damon-!"

He didn't bother explaining to his brother or Elena as he ran to the gym at his natural speed, listening for anything through the blaring noise. When he reached the gym it was completely empty save for a pair of teachers and the janitor trying to figure out how to turn off the alarm.

Running on memory, he moved to the spot where he'd left her and sniffed the air. The water from the sprinklers had washed away any and all traces of her scent, but as he took a step back, his foot hit something on the floor. He bent down and picked up the object, a black choker with a silver pendant and a dark stone hanging from it. It took him a moment to remember where he'd seen it before, and when he did, he felt his stomach drop. It was the choker Mikaela had been wearing the night of the Founder's Ball. It was an heirloom from her father's side of the family, so she wouldn't have just left it lying around like that.

A floral scent reached his nose, and bending forward a couple of inches so he could smell it better, he detected vervain mixed into the water on the floor. He'd given Mikaela the vial of vervain so that she could drink it, but according to the broken glass shards scattered across the floor around him, she'd decided to use it as more of a direct weapon instead. His phone started to vibrate, and when he checked the screen, he saw that it was Mikaela calling. Already having an idea of what to expect, he answered and got to his feet.

"You have forty-eight hours," a male voice said on the other line. The sound of a car engine starting rumbled in the background, followed by a door slamming. "You come alone or I snap her neck."

Something like a monster rearing its head came to life inside of him, and it took all of the self-control he had to not threaten the kidnapper right there on the spot. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped angrily, "And what do you want?" He ran in a second out of the gym and onto the football field where he could hear clearly.

"You don't know me, Salvatore," he stated, "but you know my girlfriend, don't you?"

"I know many girlfriends, you're gonna have to be more-"

"Her name was Lexi." It was as if he'd missed a step going down the staircase. Mikaela had mentioned Lexi's boyfriend being a vampire, but if that was true, then that meant they were in trouble. The kidnapper laughed, but it was a joyless, dark laugh. "It's different now that it's your girlfriend that's going to die, isn't it?"

"She doesn't have anything to do with this," Damon finally forced out. "This is between you and-"

"Actually, I think it's perfectly fair," he cut off, spitting out the words. "Lexi was your oldest friend, and you had her killed because of a problem she had nothing to do with. Well, it's time to even the score."

"I will _rip you apart,_" Damon finally growled, clearly enunciating the words, "so you'd better _pray _that-"

"Tell me, Salvatore, did you give her these scars on her neck?" he interrupted, and Damon heard the sound of the car braking to a stop, the tires crunching over dirt. "You know, Lexi taught me to stick to the bagged blood diet and I'm not one for sloppy seconds, but I could always make an exception, have a small bite to eat before hitting the open road."

Damon grit his teeth and balled his fists; he felt helpless, and yet all he wanted to do was fight. He felt the blood lust twisting in his insides, but this was different to the lust he'd been fighting the past couple of days: he wanted to kill for the kill, and nothing more. "Where?" he forced out, not trusting himself to say more than one word.

"Her mother's a witch and her father's a psychic, isn't he?" he said, his voice tight as if he, too, were holding back the urge to say more. "Figure it out. At this time the day after tomorrow, I'll kill her instead of you if you don't make it."

"I want to talk to her," Damon demanded. There was a short pause, and the vampire let out a short sigh.

"We all want things, Salvatore," he stated. "That doesn't mean we always get them."

And with that, he hung up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Review and I'll get the next chapter out soon! Take care guys!**


	23. Meet the Greene's

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks for all of the positive feedback guys, you are the best! Seeing as I haven't been able to reply for the last couple of chapters, review responses will be here:**

**babyhilts: I always pay attention for your long reviews, I can't explain how much they motivate me to keep writing!**

**JellyBear7: It was incredibly thoughtful of you to review every chapter as you read, I absolutely loved that and it got me back on the ball with my writing.**

**XxxCastielxXx: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Ha ha don't worry, they will, I promise...**

**Ominous Blue: Thank you for your faithful reviews!**

**Rebel-without-pause: I'm happy you like the story ^_^!**

**Egyptian Kiss: I love starting a fanfiction and reading it through in one sitting, I'm so happy you liked mine. Hope you continue to enjoy!**

**MsArtemis: Best, period? Believe me, I will keep on writing! Thanks so much!**

**..WoRlD: Hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Kristen2324: It's my hope that it continues getting better and better ;)**

**And to all of my reviewers, thank you so much, your continual support is amazing and the reason I keep up with this story... I'm already at work on the next chapter, let me know what you guys thought of this chapter and what you're expecting from the next! Should be out within a couple of days (aaaah, the glory of vacation).**

* * *

The time when she used to actually live in her own home seemed to have been a lifetime ago, when it had really only been a few weeks, if not days, since she'd started staying at the boarding house. Damon briskly walked up the porch steps to her house, mentally going over what he was going to say to Dr. Diane when she answered the door. The lights were all on and an aged black Jeep was parked in the driveway, indicating that the doctor was home and awake despite the late hour. Taking a deep breath, he raised a hand and knocked.

Not even a full minute later, the door opened, flooding the porch in light. Dr. Diane may as well have been dressed in the Queen's clothes for her regal stance in a pair of sweat pants and a white t-shirt. Her long, curly blonde hair was tied into a sloppy bun and a pair of wire-framed glasses rested on her perfectly pointed nose. She looked him up and down before crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame with her hip.

"What do you want?" she asked bluntly. Those cold blue eyes seemed to pierce straight into his, and despite their large age difference and her obviously human body, she held a power in her that was comparable to vampires much older than him. It was no wonder she and Mikaela didn't get along: two strong personalities had a tendency to crash and burn when they collided. Damon set his shoulders and began the prepared spiel.

"I need your help," he said. She raised a thin brow, but didn't move.

"Obviously," she said flatly. "Can you be more specific so that I can get back to work? I may not be in the hospital right now, but I have much better things to do than wait for you to get to the point."

Damon bit back an argument. "Mikaela's been kidnapped," he began. "I don't know where she is, and I have forty-eight hours to get to her, or she'll be as good as dead." That, at least, sparked a reaction: he could have sworn he saw her jaw tighten and her mouth twitch, but that was it. Then again, she could have simply swallowed. He waited for her to say something, respond in any way, but she simply stood there silently, looking at him but not necessarily seeing. After what felt like an eternity, she sighed and held out her hand.

"What do you have of hers?" she asked, her tone sounding almost bored. "The kidnapper must have left something for you to find." Watching her with masked confusion, Damon handed her the choker he'd found. "What exactly happened?" she asked, looking the choker over.

"We were at the school dance-"

"50's?"

"Yes," he answered slowly, unsure how it was relevant. She nodded and closed her eyes.

"I hate those dances," she murmured. "Someone always gets hurt or pregnant. Either way, I'm the one who has to see them in the hospital. I take it it's your fault she's been kidnapped?"

Damon resisted the urge to say something and nodded. It wasn't the time to start feeling defensive. "He's trying to get revenge for his girlfriend."

"That blond vampire?"

"Yeah. Lexi."

"And he thinks Mikaela's your girlfriend?"

"Unfortunately."

She shook her head, but still didn't open her eyes. "You vampires and your runaway emotions," she muttered. "And you... You just can't keep from getting her killed, can you?" Damon couldn't think of anything to say, but she didn't seem to expect him to, either. Finally she shook her head and handed the choker back to him. "You'll have to see her father if you want to get to her in time. I wasn't expecting this, so my powers aren't strong enough to tap into the talisman's power."

"Talisman?" he repeated doubtfully. She nodded.

"That belonged to Felicity Greene, Mikaela's ancestor from her father's side. She was Edmund Greene's daughter," she explained. "Remember her? She was younger than you two, but she was here during your human years." The name brought a blurry face to his mind, a young girl in her early teens with thin black hair and a thin pale face. When he didn't say anything, she continued. "She was a psychic, and she used that stone to focus her power. Only a Greene can tap into it."

"So you're telling me I need to go see Mikaela's father," he repeated slowly. "The one that's in a coma, right?"

She didn't seem impressed by his humor and stepped back into her house, non-verbally ending the conversation. "When you're done classifying what's weird and what isn't with your vampire logic, go visit her father," she said flatly. She grabbed the door to close it and stopped. "If you bring her back with more scars, I'll stake you," she stated, "and you know that I can." There was no doubt in Damon's mind that she meant every word she said. Not waiting for his response, she closed and locked the door, leaving him out in the cold. The woman was a moving, breathing contradiction: one minute she acted like she could care less if her daughter died, but the next second she was threatening his life if Mikaela dearest came back with a scraped knee.

It was going to be a long, long night.

* * *

"_So, what's going on with the journal?" _

_Mikaela opened her eyes at the familiar voice. She stood in the corner of a cheap motel room dressed in a simple white shift, the one indication that she was either in a trance or dreaming. Benji sat in a cushioned chair, legs propped up on a coffee table as he leaned the chair back on two legs. A teenage girl sat on one of the two beds propped up against the headboard, texting someone on her cellphone. She dropped her head back, a slight scowl on her face. "Jeremy gave it to his history teacher," she answered. "I'll get it tomorrow. Tonight was too risky, what with the Salvatore's staking Noah and all."_

"_Yeah, it'd be preferable to not get staked while trying to open the tomb," Benji commented, folding his hands behind his head. The bathroom door opened and a young man stepped out clad only in boxers and a towel dropped over his shoulders. "Oh come on man, cover up!" Benji complained, closing his eyes and waving a hand. Before Mikaela could turn and see who had come out of the bathroom, she felt a hand touch her face and started to slip out of the vision and into another._

* * *

Hospitals weren't a vampire's best friend. Something about all of the blood and sick, injured patients made it a place to be avoided by all immortals living on a hematologic diet. Even so, when something needed to be done, Damon knew how to control himself and keep a clear head in the health care environment. He slipped past the hospital staff with ease and closed the door to room 1246 behind him, locking it just in case a nurse decided to check on the patient.

The lights in the room had already unnecessarily been dimmed, casting long shadows across the room. The whirring of machinery and the man's steady breathing was all that could be heard, and considering it was one thirty in the morning, the unresponsive man was the only other person present. Figuring it would be best to not draw attention, he left the lights off and walked up to the bed. The cushioned chair Mikaela normally sat in was pushed back against the wall, so with a tired sigh, Damon grabbed it and sat himself down.

The nursing faculty had apparently been taking good care of the man if his clean shaven face and fresh sheets were any indication. Judging by what he'd heard about Mikaela's father, he'd been very loved by the town in his awake time, and even in his coma phase, the healthcare system showed its appreciation for the doctor's husband with the best care they could offer. He had strong facial features, and despite his neurological compromise, he had a muscular build and broad shoulders. He looked young for a man with a seventeen-year-old daughter. At most he gave him about forty years of age, possibly forty-five what with the silver hair starting to grow in between the jet colored locks on his head.

"If I needed a wing-man to go rob a bank, you'd be my guy," Damon muttered, leaning his elbows against his knees. The man's medical charts hung off a hook on the bed, and with a flourish Damon picked them up and started to flip through. "Right now, however, you're practically useless, Joseph Greene."

Of course the man didn't respond, and with a groan Damon put the charts back and crossed his arms. As much as he hated to admit it, it felt wrong to be in the hospital room without Mikaela there. It was even more wrong to be sitting in said hospital room because her mother had sent him there to communicate with her father. He pulled the choker out of his pocket and glared at it. The only clue he had was a damn necklace and a tip to talk to a man who'd been sleeping for the past couple of months.

"How the hell are you supposed to help me?" he asked frustratedly under his breath, staring accusatory daggers at the man. "One seriously pissed-off vampire has your kid because he thinks she's my girlfriend, and all you can do is snore louder? Some psychic you turned out to be." Pushing the chair back with more force than was probably necessary, Damon stood up and made his way to the door. "I'll track her down myself, without-"

It felt like wind rushing in through automatic doors on a hot day. A physical wall of air pushed him back with such force that he stumbled three steps, and on the third step, his foot met nothing. Letting out a yell of surprise, he turned around to try and break his fall, and just on time. Not even a fraction of a second later, his hands met the hard ground, and he was saved from falling face-first into the grass.

The grass?

Bracing himself for whatever madness he'd be met with, Damon looked up, and felt his stomach drop. The original Salvatore estate in Italy loomed over him, the open windows and perfect condition of the house as real as the hunger he always had to battle to reign in. He slowly got to his feet and looked around, searching for any indication that what he was seeing was a dream. One of his oldest servants from his human years, Henry, hurried toward the front doors, dragging behind him a scrawny dark child in tattered clothes. It took him a moment, but after observing the preteen's face, he recognized him a Samson, the man who'd been in charge of his care when he'd started his schooling.

If Samson was still that young, then that meant...

"Yeah, you'd better run!"

A young girl he didn't recognize screamed and ran across the front yard, her long braid of light brown hair bouncing behind her. She had bright green eyes and lightly tanned skin, and even as she ran, Damon could see that she was taller than was average for her age. Only a second later, a younger version of himself shot out from behind the bushes, bounding after the girl with as much strength as he could muster. The younger Damon was short and had long black hair that curled at the ends, more than it would when he got older. His eyes were wide and when he grinned, all of his teeth could be seen. His cheeks were red with exertion, but if his laughter was any indication, he was having the time of his life. With a burst of speed he jumped and tackled the girl to the ground, winning the battle.

"It must be strange to see yourself, considering there aren't many pictures from when you were younger."

Damon jumped and whorled around to be met with the dark eyes of Mikaela's father. He stood next to Damon dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a red lumberjack shirt with the long sleeves rolled up, revealing powerful arms that he kept crossed in front of him. Damon took a step back, wary of the man and very much aware of his disadvantage in the situation. Joseph looked him over carefully, then turned back to look at the two children.

They were now wrestling in the yard, their former screams of delight now turned to battle cries. The nurse in charge of the girl and Henry were both trying to pry the two apart, but neither would let go, sometimes Damon grabbing onto her hair and sometimes the girl wrenching at his shirt in anger. Words that, at the time, were considered inappropriate coming out of the mouths of even adults flew from one child to the other, interlaced with threats and promises of revenge. Finally the nurse and Henry were each able to pull away with one child each, although the children they each held weren't their assigned charges. A toddler stumbled through the front door then, and judging by the blonde mop of hair on his head and his bright eyes, the toddler was a worried Stefan.

"Do you remember any of this?" Mikaela's father asked, gesturing at the incident. Damon shook his head slowly. "What about her?"

The girl's face and passionate green eyes brought no spark of recognition to life. Damon tore his eyes away from the unfamiliar scene and back to the man standing next to him. "You're Joseph Greene, right?" he asked, ignoring the question. "Mikaela's father?"

Joseph turned his gaze to Damon and nodded. "Yes, I am," he confirmed, apparently indifferent about the change of subject. "And you, you're Damon Salvatore, the man at the center of my daughter's curse." It sounded like more of a statement than a question, but Damon nodded anyways. "Well, Damon, why exactly have you come to talk to me? I must admit, I'm not all that interested in robbing banks, but if you're here for something else, it's possible that I may be of service."

"You heard me?"

"Obviously," he said calmly. "May we please get to the point?"

What was it with Mikaela's parents? Catching onto the fact that the man had no interest in lengthy explanations, Damon reached into his pocket and pulled out the choker. "A vampire took Mikaela and gave me forty-eight hours to find her," he explained, holding out the choker for Joseph. "This is my only clue."

"Did you try tracking her phone?" Joseph asked, accepting the necklace. Just as Damon was going to answer, Joseph held up a hand, stopping him. "Hold on one second." He closed his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "Forget it. Zander's already taken care of that."

"Zander?" Damon repeated.

"The vampire that took her," Joseph explained, observing the necklace. "He was the last person to touch this, so I was able to get a lock on him."

"Just with a necklace?" Damon was doubtful about whether he should trust the man's ability. Joseph sighed softly and handed the choker back to him.

"Seeing as I'm in a coma and I have machinery keeping me alive, I don't have the same distractions that other psychics such as Mikaela may have," he said boredly. "This makes it much easier to lock onto people and keep track of them. For example, you."

Damon felt his hair stand on end. "Me?"

"You're starting to have feelings for my daughter," Joseph stated. "You're not sure what your feelings are, but that's because you're blinded by your love for Katherine." Damon gritted his teeth; he didn't trust witches or psychics, not with all of their mind reading and prying. "You trust her visions more than you trust anybody at this point, and yet you completely disregarded her vision about Katherine being in Florida."

"Her visions have been wrong before," Damon argued.

"She confuses certain things sometimes, but all of the elements present in the vision are true," he said condescendingly. "The vision the Sheriff told you about, Mikaela's warning? It was of a blonde vampire with blue eyes killing her."

"Lexi got staked by your wife," Damon reminded him. "And the Sheriff is alive."

Joseph rolled his eyes. "Again, thank you for stating the obvious," he said sarcastically, "but you'd think that after knowing someone for almost all of your vampire life, you'd be able to remember that Lexi did not have blue eyes. My wife has blue eyes, and when she was the age that Lexi was turned at, she had pale blonde hair that reached her waist. In Mikaela's vision, she saw my wife's urge to allow Lexi to kill the Sheriff mixed with Lexi's defensive killer instinct. Of course, she's not so experienced that she could tell the difference, so she simply dismissed her vision as erroneous."

"Geez, do you read Mystic Falls' gossip panel or something?"

"I have a lot of free time. You also feel no remorse for having killed her that night in the cafe," he continued as if Damon had never interrupted, "but once you find her, that's going to change."

"Can you just tell me where she is?" Damon snapped. "We're wasting time here. I don't have any feelings for your daughter: I need her to get Katherine out of-"

"She's in Georgia," he answered flatly. That confused him.

"Georgia? What the hell-?"

"Your friend, Bree, called him when you went to Georgia looking for answers," Joseph interrupted. "Because Bree didn't have answers, you were on your way back to Mystic Falls within the hour, while it was still daylight. Zander doesn't have a special ring like you and your brother do, so he had to wait until nightfall to follow you back. He watched you for a couple of days and decided that kidnapping Mikaela would be his best bet to get you away from Mystic Falls and your brother."

"So she'll be at Bree's-?" Damon stopped. The original sunny day had changed, and now they both stood outside of a van parked in an underground parking garage. The driver circled the van and opened the back door.

From their position, Damon and Joseph could see several layers of blankets spread out to provide a makeshift bed in the back of the van, and laid out across them was Mikaela. A jacket was thrown over her motionless body, but even though it was just a vision, Damon could smell a light hint of blood. The driver, now identifiable as Zander, climbed into the van and picked her up carefully, treating her with more care than a heartless kidnapper should have. At vampire speed, he jumped out of the van, closed the door, and walked towards the stairs, ascending them at his natural speed.

Just as the door to the stairwell closed, Mikaela appeared in front of him, a questioning look on her face. He jumped back in surprise, but she didn't seem surprised at all to see him. "Damon?" she said, her voice muffled despite their proximity. She was dressed in a simple white shift, easily mistakable for a night gown, and she was barefooted, although there was not a hint of dust on her feet. Her hair fell perfectly over her shoulders and haloed her face in a way that the wind and normal living conditions of the real world didn't allow.

She shifted her gaze to her father, and her eyes widened. "Dad?" she whispered disbelievingly. Joseph smiled and stepped forward, dropping a hand on her head. "Am I dreaming?"

"Yes, you are dreaming," he answered. "I suppose you made up this dream by accident, searching for Damon. Why are you trying to contact him?" Damon opened his mouth to say something, but a force stronger than him kept the words lodged in his throat. A side glance from Joseph told him that the psychic was keeping him from speaking.

Mikaela lowered her head for a moment, trying to remember. "I wanted to... Warn him," she answered slowly. "I... Well, I think that Zander took me to get to him."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah..." She trailed off, and suddenly her figure wasn't so clear. She started to blur, as if she was- strangely enough- evaporating. "He gave me some of his blood to heal me. I accidentally..." Her lips kept moving as if she were speaking, but the words became to quiet for him to hear. After a couple of seconds, the volume returned to her voice. "... This vision. Damon comes in, there's a fight, and I fall over, snapping my neck."

"So you'd be turned," Joseph concluded. She nodded.

"I don't want to turn," she said quietly, shaking her head. "How can I change it?"

"Go, keep looking for Damon," he urged. "The real Damon." He didn't have to tell her twice; with a gust of wind she disappeared completely, leaving the two of them alone again in the parking lot. Joseph sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Thank you for not speaking," he said, and Damon felt the lock released on his voice. "The last thing I need is for her to know that she can communicate with me, or that I spoke to you." Damon waited for him to explain, and catching onto the cue, he did. "She needs to move on with her life. I don't know if I'll ever wake up, and she deserves more than to live for her sleeping hours."

"So that was really-?"

"Yes, that was Mikaela," he cut off. "Her psyche takes on that form when she's traveling or in a vision."

"Traveling?"

"Through people's minds," he explained. "She can only do it that clearly when she's sleeping, at least right now. She's been trying to contact you, and so she ended up here, where you could see her, too. Taking into consideration how inexperienced she is at traveling, she's been at it for hours."

A silence elapsed and Joseph sighed. "This may be a product of tracking Zander, but that doesn't mean I can't sense the effect that this has on you," he said quietly. "You can deny it, but I know you're starting to care for her." Judging by the tight set of his jaw, Damon wasn't the only one the scene had an effect on. "They'll be in an abandoned warehouse just outside of Atlanta. Just drive as if you were going to visit Bree, and I'll send you the directions when I get the exact location."

"How do you plan to do that?" Damon asked, raising a brow.

Joseph smiled a slow smile and tapped his forehead with a finger. "Psychic, remember?" he said, and just like that, Damon was kicked out of Joseph's mind.

* * *

_When Mikaela opened her eyes, she was in Elena's living room, sitting on top of the television. Elena sat on her couch, going through her phone history as if hoping to find something there that hadn't been there five seconds before. Stefan sat next to her with a cup of tea and gave her a concerned look._

"_I'm sure she's fine," he said, handing her the tea. Elena accepted the tea and started to drink, but the hot drink did nothing to calm her nerves. _

"_Something's wrong," she insisted. "I can feel it. It isn't like her to just disappear like that."_

"_Damon's looking for her," he said reassuringly. "If anyone can find her, he can."_

_Elena still didn't seem assured. "Damon? You _do_ mean Damon, the one that killed her, right?"_

"_Things are... different now," Stefan said carefully. "They aren't trying to kill each other anymore."_

"_Not to mention he suddenly has the hots for me," Mikaela muttered, rolling her eyes. _

_Elena chewed her lip, debating whether to say something. "Stefan, Bonnie did this spell..."_

_Mikaela leaned forward to listen better, but slipped off the top of the TV. With a cry she held out her hands to stop her fall, but rather than hit solid ground, she fell out of the vision and straight into another._

* * *

Within the hour, Damon was on the open road, driving full-speed to Georgia. Stefan had been calling him non-stop for the past hour, and even Elena had tried to call him once or twice, but he didn't answer. Just as he was about to reject another call, he realized that the number was unrecognized and figured it wouldn't hurt to see who wanted to talk to him at three o'clock in the morning.

"Yes?" he answered. At first he was met with silence, but finally a female voice spoke on the other end.

"I have the directions," she said flatly. "Do you want to pull over and write them down, or do you think you'll remember them?"

Damon smirked; Joseph didn't fail to perform, and it was amazing how Dr. Diane could make even helping the man on his way to to rescue her daughter seem like a nuisance. "I think I'll be able to remember them, Doctor," he said, picking up speed. With that same bored tone she went over the directions to him, then waited for him to repeat them back to her. Once he'd finished, she cleared her throat.

"Now, I'm sure Joseph already made it clear to you that Mikaela isn't to know about her father's communication abilities," she began. "He's going to be keeping an eye on you, and if you even think of telling her, I'll be showing up at your house. Do we understand each other?"

"You know, you could afford to be a little nicer," Damon commented, completely unaffected by the woman's threat. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm the one going to save your daughter's life. Did Joseph mention that Mikaela could get turned into a vampire in this venture?"

"She can't be turned if she can't die," the doctor stated, but even through the phone, Damon could detect her tension. "Look, stop being such a smart-ass. If you didn't care about her, you wouldn't be going to all of this trouble, so stop pretending it's you that's doing me a favor and not the other way around. Don't even get me started on how much this is your fault, either."

Damon couldn't think of anything to say, but he didn't have to; the doctor hung up without giving him a chance to respond. He dropped his phone into his jacket pocket and settled both of his hands on the wheel, trying not to think about what both of Mikaela's parents had been trying to get him to admit to himself.

And yet, he couldn't deny the truth in their words, either. Mikaela had already given him all of the information he'd need to get into the tomb: find the journal, find the grimoire, open the tomb. He wasn't going after her to keep Stefan off his back, either: if everything went according to plan, he wouldn't even have to see his brother again within a couple of days' time. He'd be home free with Katherine, and that would be that.

So why was he going after her?

As insane as it was to admit it, somewhere between their fighting, challenges, deals and dancing, she'd grown on to him. She was beautiful, headstrong, and not afraid to go after what she wanted, even if it meant crossing paths with the man that had killed her. In a strange way, he admired the girl who could know that she would endanger herself by going to a stupid dance, and still go anyways if it meant protecting her friend. She could be stupid, yes: there was nothing smart about half of the things she did, such as staying in the same house as a vampire; and yet, there was something about that same exact stupidity that had him always watching to see what she would do next.

If he'd heard it from anyone else, he'd have concluded it was love. In his case, however, that was insane, so he simply turned up the music on the radio, set his sights on the road, and left all thoughts of love behind in Mystic Falls.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**So, what'd you guys think of Mikaela's parents? Obviously they're not too fond of Damon. Why do you think that is? And do you guys think Damon's feelings are a result of the spell? Let me know!  
Take care guys! Review 3**


	24. To Escape Without a Scratch

**Author's Note:**

**Call me a geek, but I'm fighting with the choking nostalgia that the last Harry Potter movie is bringing with it. Feels like only yesterday that I started reading those books, and I didn't feel like such a dork because Harry Potter also wore plastic glasses... Turns out I'm a dork regardless lol but it still ties a knot in my throat ha ha...**

**That said, next chapter is planned to be the tomb chapter, a nice, long, action-packed chapter ^_^. Thanks so much to my regulars for the positive feedback, the responses will be at the end of the chapter. I can't always respond when the review comes in and some reviews are submitted anonymously, so I'm gonna try and respond to all of them here.**

**And don't worry about me disappearing: I now have two friends from college who are paying close attention to make sure that I update frequently ha ha...**

**Edited: I forgot to mention, there are some links to pictures related to the story on my profile!**

* * *

He was awoken by the sound of glass breaking.

In a second Zander wrenched open his locked bedroom door to see what had caused the noise. Sunlight flooded in through the living room windows of his apartment, falling over the leather furniture and setting a glow on the cream-colored walls, but luckily not reaching him where he stood. The girl stood in front of the now-broken window with a chair in her hands, her chest rising and falling heavily from the effort. She looked up at him and shot for the window, hands extended to lift herself out and onto the fire escape.

Zander watched with furrowed brows as she was thrown back by an invisible force and crashed into the coffee table between the two leather sofas. She cried out in surprise, but didn't seem to be too phased by the attack. She growled in frustration and threw a mug that was on the table at the window, watching it sail through and to the sky beyond. Convinced that there had to be some way to get through, she launched herself at her escape route again, this time gripping the window frame and trying to lift it up.

"I had a friend seal you in," he called from the doorway. She ignored him and pounded her fist against the opening she'd made in the window. Her hand simply bounced off of the empty space as if it were cement, assuring him that the spell had been successful. "You're only going to hurt yourself."

"Piss off," she snapped, extreme frustration etched into the two words. She held her hands to the barrier and closed her eyes, muttering words under her breath. Even to Zander, however, it was clear that she wasn't getting through the barrier any time soon. Keeping an eye on her, Zander circled around the pool of light the open window created and walked into the kitchen.

Nothing in the kitchen had been moved, but then again, that was no surprise; he'd already dispensed of any and all kitchen utensils that could be used as weapons, and taking into consideration the craftiness that was characteristic of women of the supernatural persuasion, that had included basically every kitchen utensil. If anything, a bottle of water was missing from the refrigerator, but that was it. The girl continued to fight against the window as he pulled a bag of blood out of the refrigerator and placed a Hot Pocket on the counter.

"Go ahead, keep running into a dead end," he muttered to himself, pouring the blood into a coffee mug. She heard him, though, and paused her assault on the window long enough for him to gesture at the counter. "Eat so you have the energy to go home."

"Why are you acting nice?" she asked. The words were passive enough, but her tone was a completely different story. Her voice dripped with venom, and with just the superficial glance he gave her, he could see that she wanted to jump across the space and stake him on the spot. Figuring it would be best to squash that desire, he explained more about the spell, ignoring her question.

"You can't get out of this apartment unless I'm the one taking you out of it," he stated, pointing at the door, "and your only chance of escape is through there. Bree says you're a psychic, not a witch, so you can keep trying to break the spell if you want to tire yourself out, but if you kill me, you'll be trapped in here until the spell wears off. Just so you know, that's for forever."

"You mean until I die," she corrected, narrowing her eyes at him. He nodded.

"Yes, until you die," he agreed. Something flashed in her eyes, a spark of hope of sorts, and he realized what she was thinking. "If you're thinking about turning, it's not going to work."

A look of confusion crossed her face, but she sat down on the window sill and paid attention. "Why not?"

He pointed at the calendar on the wall. "You've been out for almost two days, and I gave you my blood well over twenty-four hours ago," he explained. "It's out of your system." Her body tensed and she balled her fists.

"The exchange is tonight?" she asked tightly. He nodded and started to make his way back to his room, breakfast in hand and a headache already starting. The sunlight was making him nervous. "But- I thought- How-?"

"Eat and rest," he said, not sure if he meant it more for himself or for her. "You're going to need your energy tonight."

"I'll give you an out," she said suddenly, getting to her feet. He stopped but didn't turn around to face her, bracing himself. "I'm angry at you for kidnapping me, but I can tell that you're good. You're doing this because Damon set Lexi up and my mother staked her. All you want is to avenge the woman you love, but killing him isn't going to make it go away. Lexi-"

"You don't know anything," he cut off. His gums throbbed as his fangs threatened to extend; he was getting angrier, and that wasn't good if he wanted things to go according to plan.

"I've seen her in my visions of you," she continued anyways. "You two were in love, the kind of love that people only dare to dream about. It shouldn't have been taken away the way it-" He whorled around and growled, allowing the full evidence of his emotion to show. She jumped slightly at the darkened eyes, sharp fangs and protruding veins on his face, but with a deep breath, she went on, albeit with a louder voice. "My point is, you aren't like him. Don't do this."

"You don't understand," he argued. "I'm doing all of you a favor. The world is a better place without-"

"I'm in love with him!" she yelled angrily. The words hung in the air with a weight he couldn't understand, but he didn't back down. "He's selfish and manipulative and doesn't trust anyone but himself, but I don't want a better world, I want one with him in it!"

He waited to see if she'd say anything else. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes and her bottom lip trembled, and her anguished expression put together with her blood-covered dress and disarrayed hair made her look positively pitiful. He stepped back into his room. "I didn't have a choice," he said quietly, but he knew she could hear him. "I was supposed to see her the next day. We were supposed to cosign for this apartment, and we were supposed to live our lives together. I became what I did to be with her forever, and all I got was a fraction of it."

"But-!"

"You won't get a choice, either." And with that, he closed and locked the door.

* * *

Mikaela watched as he closed the door and waited a full two minutes before moving.

Her act would keep him in his room for a little while, but not for long enough. She quietly pulled open cabinets, searching for something, anything she could kill herself with. She'd already searched the cabinets for knives, frying pans or anything with wood in it earlier, but had found them all to be bare: apparently he'd already vampire-proofed the kitchen. With a growl of frustration she made her way to the bathroom, pulling back the window shades as she went in case he decided to leave his room again.

Finally, in a cabinet under the bathroom sink, she got results: a gallon of bleach, a bottle of nail polish remover, and an extra shower liner. Poisoning would take much too long to actually kill her, not to mention there was no telling how long it would take for her to come back to life. The shower rail looked sturdy enough, so setting her jaw and taking a deep breath, she stretched out the shower liner and got to work.

_Mikaela, listen to me. _

She stopped in her work and listened. It was her mother's voice. She looked around slowly, but everything in the pearly white bathroom seemed normal. Her mother and her never communicated in such a way, although her father had spoken to her once or twice psychically. If she were to be completely sincere, it creeped her out in a way that nothing vampire-related had been able to.

_Damon's on his way. I know you're trying to escape, but that's not a good idea. You might not remember, but you've had a vision that you get turned into a vampire, so vampire blood must be lingering in your system. _

She cursed and threw the suicide instruments back into the cabinet.

_Just wait for him. Don't do anything stupid._

Even when trying to save her life, her mother was a thorn in her side. She didn't remember receiving blood _or_ having a vision, but if she'd gone to the trouble of speaking to her, that had to mean there was some truth to her words. And how the hell had she known what she was trying to do? The woman had taken her God complex to the next level.

Which meant there was nothing she could do. She'd tried opening the door to Zander's room, and had failed: no killing the kidnapper. She'd tried escaping through the window and front door, and had failed: no escaping. She couldn't even kill herself to break the spell binding her to the apartment because then she'd be stuck as a vampire forever, which was not an option.

There had to be something! She couldn't just sit there waiting for the sun to go down so she could be dragged off to some rendezvous point and used as bait. It wasn't right. She was used to taking action and doing what needed to be done, not waiting for someone else to do it for her. If she was strong enough to contact Damon psychically, then even _that_ would be enough: she could warn him to stay away, and then she'd escape on her own. She wasn't sure exactly how she'd do it, but so long as he didn't die, she'd be able to figure out the rest.

The problem was that she wasn't strong enough.

Releasing her frustration in a kick against the bathroom cabinet, she slumped back against the bathroom wall to wait.

* * *

Damon was sick and tired of waiting.

The abandoned warehouse in question turned out to be nothing more and nothing less than that: an abandoned warehouse. A _boring_, abandoned warehouse. He sat in his car with the windows rolled down and the music turned up, watching the sun go down and counting the minutes until it would be dark enough for the exchange to take place. He'd already searched the warehouse from top to bottom the day before: no secret passages, no vervain-infused traps, no stakes lying around. If anything, the warehouse was too empty. There was no evidence of what could have been kept in the warehouse before it had been abandoned: no crates, no paperwork, no dusty old tools, _nothing. _There was _nothing._

His phone started to ring just as the sun was halfway under the horizon and so he answered it, if not solely out of boredom.

"Salvatore hotline," he answered.

"Have you found her yet?"

Damon raised a brow and leaned back in his seat. "Well, if it isn't the great Elena," he greeted. "No, I haven't rescued your neighbor yet, but I'm open to requests. Any other friends who may need me to ride in and save the day?"

"This is serious, Damon," she scolded. "If anything happens to Mikaela-"

"I know, Elena," he cut off. "I'm bored here. Entertain me."

She sighed quietly on the other line. "If anyone asks, she's out of town getting her camera fixed."

Damon snorted. "Seriously? Who would believe that?"

"Apparently Tyler did. He showed up at the boarding house this morning."

Damon rolled his eyes and dropped his head back. "What was the Lockwood brat doing at my house? Showing up to beg Mikaela for forgiveness?"

Elena paused. "I... don't think it's really any of your business," she admitted.

"I'll take that as a yes. He should know better."

"They _did_ decide to be friends, you know. Friends visit each other."

"Yeah, because _all_ couples that cheat on each other choose to be friends in the end."

Elena groaned. "Mikaela didn't cheat on Tyler," she stated tiredly, giving him the impression that she'd said that several times before. "Vicki only told him that to piss him off."

Damon made the connection and laughed quietly. "Now it makes sense," he said with a grin. "He did it as revenge. Wow, that really sucks for Twinkle Toes."

"You do realize that you sound almost concerned," Elena said slowly. He sighed, giving up. There was silence on the other line as Elena waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, registered the message. "You're... actually worried about somebody?" she asked doubtfully. "Besides yourself?" He rolled his eyes.

"She's tolerable," he corrected. "At least, more tolerable than you are."

"Being _concerned_ is not the same thing as finding someone _tolerable_."

"Thank you for this wonderful lesson on vocabulary," he muttered sarcastically. The sun had almost completely set and he was starting to itch for a fight. "Look, as marvelous as it's been talking to you, it's almost time for me to be the hero, so..."

"Wait, Damon, there's something I need to tell you," she said quickly. "Bonnie did this spell-"

"Well, good for the little witch," he interrupted. "Unless it'll burn this pain in the ass on the spot, I've gotta go." Not waiting for her to say anything else, he hung up and turned off his car.

Without the background noise, he was able to hear it this time: a car engine close by. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and grabbed a stake off the passenger seat before climbing out, slamming the door behind him.

He quickly found the source of the noise, a van parked behind the warehouse. The engine was still running and he hadn't heard any doors open, so he silently moved around the corner and approached the van at vampire speed, stopping by the back doors. When he tried to open it, naturally it was locked, so he broke the handle off as quietly as he could and pulled the door open, stake drawn back at the ready.

The van was empty. Damon cursed and quickly backed away, listening for the vampire or Mikaela. The fight had begun and he hadn't even known it. He heard sounds of a struggle coming from inside the warehouse, and just as he started to search for an entrance, he heard her scream.

He hadn't heard her scream like that since the night she'd been stabbed with a bottle. It only took him a couple of seconds to find an entrance, and even then, the seconds seemed too long. She continued to scream, half out of pain and half in protest, her voice drilling into his head and egging him on. By the time he ran into the warehouse she'd silenced, and when he looked up at the second-floor landing, he saw why.

In a second he ran up the stairs to where her limp form was thrown across the floor and checked her pulse: not dead, but unconscious. She was still wearing the same dress he'd last seen her in, only now it was covered in a light layer of dirt and a huge bloodstain around her waist. Small cuts lined her forearms and her feet, which were now bare, and if he wasn't mistaken, he saw a bruise threatening to form on her shoulder. Clearly she'd tried to give the vampire hell, and had failed.

Before he could decide between carrying her to the car and then dealing with the vampire or dealing with the vampire before carrying her away, the bastard made the decision for him. Something that felt as hard as metal hit him square in the chest, propelling him several feet through the air and into a wall. Damon felt the air get knocked out of his chest and pain seared through his upper body as he slid to the floor. Through the stars that blocked his vision he saw a man stalk towards him, a baseball bat held in his hand. He recognized him from the vision he'd shared with Joseph, and it may have been the circumstances, but he looked different in person.

Of course, he didn't have much time to ruminate on this. In the blink of an eye he brought the bat down on both of Damon's knees, blasting an incomparable pain up and down his legs. Damon yelled out and then grit his teeth, not wanting to let him see that he was winning. He dropped the bat and picked up a large metal canister off the ground.

"Still think it was a good idea?" he asked, spitting on Damon in disgust. "Do ya?" Not waiting for Damon's answer, he started to dump gasoline on him, making sure Damon was completely soaked. Damon tried to move and the vampire kicked him in the stomach, knocking him down again. He tossed the canister to the ground, picked up the baseball bat, and pulled a lighter out of his pocket. Damon wrapped his fingers tighter around the stake in his hand and prepared himself.

_Stop._

Damon blinked, looking around the vampire's feet to see if Mikaela had spoken. She was still unconscious, but he was certain that he'd heard her voice. Even the vampire momentarily paused.

_Zander, Lexi didn't want this._

That time, Zander stopped and turned around. "Damn wannabe witch," he muttered, and started towards her. Damon grunted and pulled himself up on his elbows.

"Don't-!" Damon began, but was stopped by a warm hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, he was shocked to see Mikaela crouching next to him, a warning look on her face.

_Shut up._

Her lips didn't move when he heard the words, and yet he knew that she was the one who'd said them. She stood up when she was convinced he wouldn't do anything stupid and moved towards Zander, who stood in front of her body. It was then that Damon noticed she was wearing a white shift and wore no shoes: somehow, the Mikaela he'd seen in Joseph's vision was present in the physical form. What the hell was going on? Without making a sound, she moved close to Zander and, reaching from behind, covered his eyes with her hands.

Immediately Zander froze. Damon couldn't see the expression on the vampire's face, but after only a couple of seconds, Mikaela evaporated and Zander dropped the baseball bat. He turned around and looked at Damon with hatred but, more than anything, sadness. Without saying another word, he gave Damon one last kick in the gut and ran out of the warehouse.

And just like that it was over.

Damon waited for one, two, five whole minutes before getting to his feet, partially out of caution, but mostly because that was the amount of time it took for his legs to heal enough for him to stand. He staggered over to Mikaela, holding himself up by the handrail that went along the second-floor balcony. By the time he got over to the girl, she was just starting to wake up.

"Ugh, my arm," she muttered, pulling it out from underneath her. She dropped her head back and winced. "Oh, my head..." Now Damon could see a red mark the size of Zander's hand around her wrist. She groaned and lifted herself onto her knees, stopping every couple of seconds from small shots of pain. Once she'd managed to pull herself up with the aid of the railing, she acknowledged Damon's presence.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, leaning her full weight against the rail. Holding an arm to his stomach, Damon chuckled and held out his other arm.

"Let's figure that out somewhere else," he said tiredly. "I don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood to stick around."

* * *

Not even an hour later, both were sitting in a diner eating. Damon had bought her a pair of jeans, sneakers and a simple t-shirt (the blood-stained dress would attract too much attention, he'd reasoned) and, after quick showers at his hotel room, they'd stepped out to eat across the street. Both had ordered burgers and an order of onion rings, and once the food was served, they started to discuss the past couple of hours' events.

"I was out for most of the past two days," she explained, biting down on an onion ring. She wrinkled her nose. "The Grill's onion rings are better. Anyways, he had Bree put a spell on his apartment so that I couldn't get out. When it was almost nightfall he took me to that warehouse, dragged me in and twisted my arm to get me to scream," Mikaela explained, rolling her eyes. "Asshole. Anyways, I can't remember anything after he knocked me out. So, how did you beat him?"

"I didn't," he admitted grudgingly. "You went all psychic on him and somehow got him to go away."

She raised a brow. "Yeah, right," she said sarcastically, chuckling to herself. "Look, I'm not even a witch. Bree told him."

Damon had suspected as much. "Then how were you able to boil water that night?" he asked, referring to the night of the dinner party at Elena's house. He expected something in her face to change at the mention of their reunion after he'd killed her, but she seemed nonchalant about it.

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I guess it must have been Elizabeth. She was a real witch."

Sensing self-disappointment, he changed the subject. "Well, I'm serious. You did this whole astral-projection thing and scared him off. You don't remember?" Damon asked doubtfully, taking a bite of his burger. Mikaela shook her head.

"Nope," she answered. "If anything, I had a dream about Lexi while I was out, but seeing as she's dead..."

"Let's not mention the dead vampire whose boyfriend nearly killed us both?" he suggested. She chuckled and nodded.

"Agreed."

He cocked his head to the side, eyeing her curiously. "You seem awfully cheerful for a girl who was kidnapped," he commented. She shrugged.

"I didn't die," she said simply. "That's good enough for me."

"There _are_ things worse than dying," he reminded her. She nodded.

"I know. Mom said I had a vision of getting turned into a vampire," she said. Damon nodded as if to say that he already knew, and she paused. "How did you know about that?"

Damon mentally cursed and quickly came up with a lie. "Well... You told me," he said, as if it were completely obvious. "When I went to sleep last night, you came to me in a dream. Bree calls it projection, other people call it traveling."

"Are you sure you're not just dreaming about me?" she asked, using the same suggestion he'd used when she'd told him about her dreams. He laughed sarcastically and she grinned, satisfied.

"Just eat your food," he muttered. At first it seemed like she'd follow his order, but once she'd gone through her burger in the span of about two minutes (apparently kidnappers didn't offer that much of a meal plan), she reopened conversation.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, reaching for her bottle of water. "Are you gonna check out now?"

He shook his head firmly. "Uh-uh. There's no way I'm driving until I get a good night's sleep," he stated. "The room's under a different name and we're easily an hour away from Atlanta, so I doubt our little friend will be showing up."

"Does the couch have a bed?" she asked. Damon realized that her concern about spending the night had nothing to do with Zander showing up and smirked.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. She groaned, bracing herself for the teasing. "You have no problem fighting vampires or staying in the same house with Stefan and me, but you're freaked out by sharing a room for a night?"

"It was just a question," she stated flatly. "I'm a rough sleeper."

"I like rough."

"Oh my _God_," she muttered, getting to her feet. He laughed and pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket. "Forget it, I'll sleep in the car."

"It was a joke!" he said, hurrying after her as she marched out the door. As irritated as she seemed by his teasing, she let him walk next to her on the way back to the room and didn't mention it again. The room was spacious enough for two people: the bedroom had a queen-sized bed and a dresser with the standard bathroom connected, and the small living room had a couch and the television by the window. Within a couple of minutes they'd pulled the bed out of the couch and set it up with sheets and pillows from the closet.

"I'll take the couch," Mikaela stated, dropping onto the mattress. Damon laughed and lifted her up by her upper arm, steering her towards the bedroom.

"There is _no way_ I'm having your mother show up on my doorstep with a stake in hand because her little princess got a backache," he stated, letting her go in front of the bed. She didn't resist, but gave him a strange look.

"I thought she said she'd stake you if I came back with a scratch," she said slowly. Damon raised a brow and she shrugged. "I was knocked out for a while."

"Eavesdropping isn't a smart habit," he said, holding up a finger warningly. She shrugged again.

"I've done less smart things."

He smirked and shook his head, backing away to the door. "Good night, Mikaela," he said, closing the door behind him. She smiled softly.

"Good night, Damon," she whispered.

* * *

"_Hey."_

_Damon looked over his shoulder at the sound of Mikaela's voice and quickly turned off the television. He thought she'd fallen asleep already, but apparently that wasn't the case. Getting to his feet, he took in her appearance with curiosity as she walked towards him. She wore one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, her black hair cascading around her shoulders and into her face. Almost instinctively he reached forward and tucked a lock behind her ear, allowing his hand to linger there. She didn't pull away and simply looked up at him, those wide brown eyes pulling him closer._

"_Thanks for coming back for me," she whispered. He tried to say something, but the words wouldn't form in his throat. She lifted her hands and framed his face, her skin warming him unlike anything else. Her fingertips trailed down, their feather-like touch fluttering over his neck until they settled on his chest. Tilting her head to the side, she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and leaned forward, pressing her lips softly to the hollow below his ear, then to his jaw, then..._

* * *

Damon woke up with a start, his heart pounding against his chest and sweat breaking out over his skin. The television was still on the local news and he quickly turned it off, trying to regain himself. What the hell kind of dream had that been? Had it not been for the fact that he'd woken up, he would have sworn that it had been real, but... That was impossible, wasn't it? He listened to check if Mikaela had fallen asleep yet, but all he heard was her mumbling to herself. Set on getting answers, he moved to the door and pushed it open, a threat on the tip of his tongue.

She was sitting up in bed, her head held between her hands. When she heard the door open she looked up with wide eyes, a series of emotions playing through them. He caught fear, stomach-dropping surprise, and then dread. For a couple of seconds they just stared at each other, each trying to figure out what the other was thinking. It only took him a second to conclude that she knew about his dream, but whether she came to know about it as a third party observer or a participant, he didn't know.

He wanted to demand answers, wanted to know why he was dreaming about her, what had changed over such a short amount of time to make him see her so differently, but the words refused to form. All he could do was stare at her and the increasing confusion forming on her face that mirrored the one starting in himself.

Then, as he'd grown to expect from her, she pulled up a front. "I... I think I know where the grimoire is," she finally stated, clearing her throat. "We don't need the journal, but should go home, now." Making the decision without consulting first, she got out of bed and grabbed her jeans off the floor. In the handful of seconds it took for her to pull them on, he noticed she was wearing a pair of black spandex shorts, and it took everything in him to tear his eyes away.

But she was right. It didn't escape him that her hands shook softly and her breathing was shallow with awareness, but the statement behind her words was clear: "Focus on Katherine." He couldn't allow a crush to jeopardize what he'd been working on for practically all of his vampire years to achieve, and making a single wrong move with the only one who could help him accomplish that mission would be jeopardizing everything.

Silently agreeing, he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He hadn't brought many belongings and was ready to leave almost immediately. He leaned against the back of the sofa with crossed arms, listening to her walk around the room doing Lord knows what to stall looking him in the eye.

There was something going on between them, something dangerous. He could call it a crush if he wanted to, but he wouldn't be so cautious to verbally address a crush. No, this was something... more. More carnal or more (dare he say it) emotional, he couldn't clearly tell, but he knew she felt it, too. She didn't want to talk about it, either, that much was clear, and he didn't feel the need to push her. No, it wasn't the time to act on impulses, not when he was so close to getting Katherine back...

And once he got her back, none of it would matter anymore.

Even in the two second as Mikaela stepped out of the room with her dress in a grocery bag, he felt his conviction falter. Everything that had been so clear before was suddenly starting to blur, and he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't be distracted, not when it came to the love of his afterlife.

They drove back to Mystic Falls in tense, uncomfortable silence.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**1. Mikaela doesn't always remember everything she dreams and can't always remember her visions. She was out for such a long time that she doesn't remember the vision about becoming a vampire and doesn't remember getting in contact with Damon. Think of it this way: do you always remember your dreams?**

**2. While this chapter is going on, Stefan still hasn't gotten the journal.**

**Reader Responses:**

**babyhilts: Ha ha you negotiator! I hope this chapter came out fast enough! Yeah, her dad's kinda awesome and her mom's an A-class bitch at this point, but more will be revealed soon to show how she became the way she is and about them as a couple. I wanted to show pieces of why Mikaela is the way she is through her parents, and I'm glad you enjoyed their parts :) And you were right about Mikaela being the opposite of boring to Damon.**

**JellyBear7: Yeah, Joseph can be pretty blunt when reading people, and he didn't mind at all throwing Damon's feelings into the open. I'm gad you liked the change in pace ^_^!**

**Red: Don't worry, I come from a Spanish-speaking environment, and you write like a natural. Welcome to the story, and I'm SO delighted that you like it! Mikaela's and Damon's relationship is taking something of a turn now, so I hope you stick around ;) Glad I can be writing the next obsession!**

**Killer. Bunnies. Rule. The. WoRlD: Thank you soooo much :D!**

**Review and I'll get the juicy chapter out soon!**


	25. The Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry it took me a little while to update! See, here's what happened: I wrote and re-wrote this chapter several times, and by the time I finished, I had a 20-22 page chapter that would have been way too long to publish. In the end, I've divided it into two parts: the first part is Dr. Diane-centric, and the second part is pure Mikaela/Damon and tomb-centric to make up for the background chapter here.**

**I hope all of you are well, and Happy August! Summer Vacation is almost over! **

**PS: The italics are Dr. Diane's flashbacks, not Mikaela's visions.**

**PPS: Zachariah is the same Zack from earlier chapters; Diane just has this thing with calling people by their full names, not nicknames.**

* * *

_The light streaming in from between the curtains woke her from her deep sleep and back to reality. It had been a crazy night of dancing, drinking, and kissing; in all honesty, she couldn't even remember how many shots of tequila she'd had before the kissing had started. Luckily it had only been with her boyfriend of ten months, a young man with the perfect looks to keep her entertained, but too much of a small-town attitude to keep her interested. She had plans, and getting married didn't fit into those plans._

_She stretched her arms above her head, groaning at the dull pain the movement caused. She felt like she'd run a marathon, and in all honesty, that was no surprise; considering the hours she'd spent clubbing with her two best friends and their boyfriends, she was lucky she could even move at all. A pounding in her head reminded her that no long night came without consequences, and two of those consequences were a hangover and missing her big date with Joseph. Knowing him, he'd want to go to her apartment and keep her company anyways, maybe even nurse her to health: he was a doll like that._

_Her girlfriends thought she was crazy for not having slept with him yet. She laid down on her pillow and rested her hand on her forehead, closing her eyes against the dizziness. They didn't understand. It hadn't been a problem sleeping with Trent, Alexander, and what's-his-face, Heath: all those boys had wanted was a good time, just like her, and if any accidents had happened, she never felt the obligation to tell them about it. Joseph, on the other hand, wanted more: he wanted a wife, a family, even a white picket fence if they were still in style when the time came. Those were things a girl like her couldn't offer. Her life wasn't a love story, and she was hardly the saint he made her out to be. An arm draped around her waist and she felt someone press their lips to her ear._

"_Awake already?"_

_Her life was more of a cheap horror flick._

_Her eyes flew open at the sound of Joseph's husky morning voice, something she'd only heard on his birthday when she'd snuck into his dorm room for breakfast in bed. He chuckled and started to kiss her neck, a smile on his lips as he did so. She struggled for words, but no sound came out of her mouth as everything in her world came crashing down._

_She was naked under the sheets and Joseph was with her. She'd gone through the routine enough times to realize what had happened in her drunken haze and to figure out that the soreness she felt was not solely a result of the partying. Before his hands could start to explore her body (again, she had to remind herself), she shot out of bed like a bullet._

_Her ankles tangled in an abandoned pair of pants and she almost fell over in her haste to run to- the shared closet? With horror she realized that the apartment wasn't her own, either. Where there should have been Chinese scrolls hanging from the walls there were band posters, and under her feet where her Indian rug should have been, there was a mess of dirty laundry and class notes: she was in Joseph's dorm room, the room he shared with-_

"_Woah!"_

_She screamed and grabbed a towel off the floor to cover herself as Zachariah walked in, his eyes widening like saucers when he saw her. "Dude, that's my girl you're gawking at!" Joseph exclaimed exasperatedly. "Get out!" Still Zachariah was frozen. She growled and grabbed a shoe._

"_Get out!" she yelled, flinging the shoe at him. Faster than humanly possible he ducked out of the room, sputtering apologies to both her and Joseph as he made his escape. That Zack, he was a nervous person, but that was no excuse. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and she felt dizzy from standing up much too quickly, but nothing compared to what she felt when she saw her reflection in the mirror hanging from the door. _

_Her wild blonde hair was in an even bigger disarray than it normally was in the morning, making her face and body look sickly thin. Her blue eyes were wide and—to both her horror and disgust—there was a hickey forming on her neck: public evidence. "Babe, you okay?" Slowly she turned around. Joseph was still in bed, propped on his elbow and looking at her with concern. "I thought the door was locked, but Zack won't tell anybody-"_

"_I need to make a phone call."_

_She hardly recognized her calm, empty voice as she grabbed her phone off the bedside cabinet and marched to the bathroom, head held high, as always. She closed the door behind her and locked it with an audible click. She waited for the sound of footsteps, but they didn't come; Joseph had always been one for respecting her privacy. Certain she had at least five minutes before he started to worry, she set down the toilet seat and sat down, pressing number four on her cell phone for speed dial._

_He answered before the second ring. "Good morning, Diane. I trust you woke up with a beautiful hangover?"_

"_You bastard," she hissed, clutching the towel to her chest. "You _bastard!"

_There was only the sound of the radio on the other end. "Now, I know you think I'm a telepath, but my mind-reading abilities don't exactly work over the phone-"_

"_Why couldn't you just leave me alone?" she continued in a furious whisper. "Joseph isn't like the other guys, he actually _wants _a family!"_

"_Well, shouldn't you be happy that you found the perfect guy to father your baby girl?" he reasoned after a pause. "Most girls would be elated to be in your-"_

"_I don't give a shit!" she snapped. "Most girls don't have a vampire for a brother! Most girls don't come from a family of witches! Most girls don't have the ghost of their great great-whatever grandmother living inside of them, God damn it! Benji, I thought you understood!"_

"_I do understand, but you wanted to get rid of the curse, didn't you? This is the best way," he reminded her. "Once the girl matures, the curse will be passed from you into her, and you'll be rid of Elizabeth for good."_

"_That's not the point! I'm not ready for a kid, and I don't want to live a lie!" she whispered earnestly, barely choking back a sob. "Joseph doesn't deserve to live like this, either! Please, just let me get an abortion!"_

"_Yeah, right. And don't even think of pulling a fast one on me like last time, I'm going to be watching everything you drink to make sure you don't have another one of those 'special non-abortion, abortion teas'. Just tell him the truth."_

"_He'll be disgusted with me," she said under her breath. "I'm sure he could handle the curse, but the part about Nikolai... I don't think so. He'll feel like I betrayed him."_

"_Then don't tell him."_

_Diane sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her face in them. "I hate you, Benji. I hate you, Elizabeth, Damon, everyone... so much."_

* * *

Dr. Diane turned the key in the front door of her house only to find that it was unlocked.

It had been months since the last time that had happened... Taking a breath to regain herself, she pushed open the door and listened for the person. When she didn't hear anything, she stepped inside and looked around the parlor. A pair of dirt-caked boots were set by the door, along with a jacket hanging on the coat-rack and a cell-phone on the small table. Mikaela hadn't been to the house since she first "welcomed" her mother back from her trip, which could only mean she had business to attend to that could only be attended to at the house.

Not bothering to announce her arrival, Dr. Diane hung her jacket up next to Mikaela's and pulled off her boots, setting them on the small rack by the door. Following the light trail of dirt, she found herself standing in the doorway to her office, watching her daughter work at the copying machine.

Back when Joseph had decided he wanted to start working part-time as a professor at the university, he and his wife had figured that they should expand their office for both of their sakes. They'd invested in a small copying machine and a second desk as well as some bookshelves that had filled up within only two months. Mikaela taking copies then and there was actually the first time that the machine got any use despite Joseph's insistence that day at the Office Depot that they absolutely _needed_ one.

"I assume you got Benji's text."

Even if Dr. Diane had a spell up to keep her daughter from reading her aura, it was no surprise that the psychic could sense her. "I was expecting to see Benji only, but it's good to see you alive," Dr. Diane said, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. "What are you doing?" Mikaela didn't look up from her work to greet her.

"Taking copies of the spell," she answered flatly, lifting the cover and turning the page. "I'm working on two copies. Do you want one, or should I wait for Benji?"

"How did you find it?" she asked.

"I had a vision," she explained, avoiding eye contact. It was clear that she was wondering if she should stick around for conversation or not. "The past couple of days I kept having a vision of the grimoire underground, so I went and dug up Johnathon Gilbert's grave, but found nothing. Last night the vision was clearer, of Stefan and Elena digging up Giuseppe Salvatore's grave tonight. I cheated and went first thing this morning once I got back from Georgia."

"It was in Salvatore's grave?" Dr. Diane repeated. Mikaela nodded. "And you didn't need the journal to find it?" She shook her head.

"Nope, once I had the vision, it canceled out the need for the journal." Once she'd scanned the last page, she took copies of the front and back covers for extra measure. "How did you know about the whole journal drama?"

"Benji," she answered, waving a hand. "He told me he got the journal for a friend of his. Have you read it yet?"

"Only scanned through it for the important parts," she said, picking up the small pile of copies and sorting the pages out into the two pamphlets. "Do you have a stapler?"

Dr. Diane nodded and walked over to the desk, pulling it out of the drawer. "Is there anything about our curse in there?"

"I found a thing or two," she said, and stopped. "'Our' curse?"

Dr. Diane raised a brow. "You didn't think the curse only affected you, did you?" she said calmly, picking up one of the copies. Mikaela had done a good job: there was hardly a detail that wasn't clear on the pages. "It's passed down from mother to daughter once the daughter reaches adulthood."

"I figured as much, but-"

"We'd be better off not discussing this subject in a house that Benji has been invited into," she interrupted. "Especially not when he's on his way here to meet us." Surely enough, not even seconds later, footsteps sounded outside the door, signaling the vampire's arrival.

"Well well, look at my two favorite ladies getting along,"Benji said, walking into the room with his characteristically charming smile. "What are you two up to?" He took in Mikaela's dirt-covered jeans and tattered t-shirt and frowned. "And why on earth did you let Damon convince you that making out in the dirt was a good idea?" Mikaela opened her mouth to make some sort of clever retort, but Dr. Diane felt a tug in her stomach at the mental image Benji imposed and help up her hand.

"Please, if you don't mind, I'd rather we focus on matters more important than my daughter's relationship with an older man," she cut off, and help up the papers. "Such as this, for example." Benji smirked at Mikaela and moved next to Dr. Diane.

"You got the journal?" he asked, reading over her shoulder. "I could have sworn that..." His smile disappeared as his pale green eyes swept over the pages, taking in the fact that the pages were not part of the journal at all. He reached forward and Dr. Diane slapped his hand away.

"Unless you've tapped into your sister's reserve of magic and plan to open the tomb yourself, I'm keeping this," she said, leaning back against the copying machine. "You can go tell your friends that we'll open the tomb tonight. Sound good?"

"Sounds... Perfect," he said, recovering quickly. Mikaela scrunched up her face in confusion and stepped forward.

"Wait, what friends?" she asked. "I'm lost." Benji sat on the desk in front of her.

"Remember I told you I knew how to get the journal?" Mikaela nodded in confirmation. "Well, I knew how to get the journal because I've been playing nice with some vampires in town."

"I'm still not understanding," she said flatly. "Who else wants to get into the tomb?"

Benji sighed, bracing himself for the interrogation as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "There's a vampire in the tomb named Pearl," he explained in a bored tone. "Her daughter, Anna, wants to get Mother Dearest out."

"That wasn't part of the plan," she argued. "If you guys want to get in the tomb and try to get a bite at Katherine, that's fine, but the more people who get involved, the more-"

"She was planning on kidnapping Elena to use as leverage against Bonnie," he interrupted. "If that's not enough, she'd been dating Jeremy Gilbert if not for the sole purpose of using him against Elena and Stefan. The cherry on this sundae of bad news is that she's been turning people into vampires and using them for her dirty work. The only reason she hasn't threatened anything of yours yet is because I've convinced them that you're useless."

"Your point being?"

"Keep the scary vampire happy and no one gets hurt," he concluded with a shrug. "Let her in and out of the tomb. In my opinion, one mommy vampire on the loose isn't much different from the current situation in town, and so long as I can get at Katherine, I dare not complain."

Mikaela sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Dr. Diane watched her daughter carefully and knew the girl saw the reason in what Benji was saying, but wasn't too happy about the situation. "Fine," she surrendered. "You guys can share that copy."

"Who's the other copy for?" he asked, gesturing at the untouched booklet. "Stefan?"

"And why the hell would Stefan want to get into the tomb?" she exclaimed in exasperation. "Is his mom in there, too?"

Benji held up his hands defensively. "Salvatore's mother is dead, but I just figured that you might have involved him in our plot to make Katherine glorified barbecue," he said, raising a brow. "At the very least he could be useful in keeping Damon busy while we get in there and burn the bitch up."

"You're gonna have to come up with another plan, because Damon's coming with us."

It was as if time froze. In that pause, Dr. Diane and Benji both realized what was going on. Mikaela wasn't on their side, she was helping Damon. She was just as shocked as Benji was at the realization, but he was more expressive about his sentiments. The vampire cursed and clenched his fists, barely holding back the frustration. "You were planning to let Damon take Katherine, weren't you?" he asked tightly, although it was a rhetoric question. "Have you forgotten that it's his fault we're stuck with this damn curse?" Mikaela didn't lower her head in shame or falter, simply set her jaw decisively.

"'Keep the scary vampire happy'," she quoted, narrowing her eyes at him. "I asked you for help because nobody else in this damn town would be able to understand: Elena's too busy trying to walk on an unachievable moral plane and Bonnie's grandmother would only let her do it over her dead body."

"That's not the point!"

"I never agreed to kill Katherine: that's a suicide mission that you're more than welcome to take on, considering you heal much faster than I do. Damon's been wreaking havoc for 145 years because of that damn woman, so I say let's just let him have her already so he can leave town," Mikaela snapped, not taking too kindly to being scolded. "Then we can figure out how to break the curse on our own."

"But she's-!" Benji stopped himself from finishing his sentence and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. It took a couple of seconds for him to regain himself, but once he did, he opened his eyes and gave Mikaela a firm look. "Tonight, at the tomb," he ordered, giving her a stern glare that she returned full force. "If Damon asks, we agreed to help you out because of Anna. I'll come up with a plan once Katherine is out of the tomb." He turned his gaze onto Dr. Diane, who didn't even blink. "I'll be there at 6 o'clock to get the place prepared. We're doing this regardless of who shows up."

"Fine," she answered with a nod. "I'll bring the vervain just in case we get more vampire company than you can handle." Mikaela didn't say anything at all, simply glared at his back as he left the room, hands balled into tight fists. Once the front door slammed, Dr. Diane waited for Mikaela to speak.

Several seconds passed before her daughter let out a breath she'd been holding and rolled her eyes. "So, why are we hiding things from Benji?" Mikaela asked, apparently unaffected by Benji's outburst. Then again, she'd always been a good actress. Dr. Diane held back the urge to smirk and put her copy on the desk.

"His goals only partially coincide with ours," she explained, watching her daughter for a reaction as she put her copies into a binder. "We all want the curse broken, but I would rather not make vampire friends or have people dying along the way. He really doesn't care about what it takes."

"Sounds like Damon to me," Mikaela commented.

"Speaking of which, why exactly _are_ you helping Damon?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You could have just let him go chase after the journal, then get into the tomb and kill Katherine while he was distracted, and the curse would be broken."

Mikaela paused for a moment, considering her answer carefully. When ten seconds passed and the girl didn't say anything, Dr. Diane sighed, resigned. There were only so many things they could talk about before the walls between them grew taller. Mikaela snapped the rings of her binder shut and braced her hands against the desk, taking a deep breath. "I don't think this is going anywhere," she finally confessed, albeit with hesitation. "We all want to get at Katherine for our own reasons, and yet we're running on blind faith, assuming she's actually in that tomb."

"So you think she's... free?" she asked carefully. She was trying to mask her surprise, but she was certain Mikaela would have been able to see it in her eyes if she'd so chosen to look up at that moment. The girl hadn't directly said anything about her suspicion, but her doubt alone was enough: Mikaela had a way of seeing things for what they really were, at least when it didn't have to do with her own mother. Could it be possible that the bitch was alive and _free_?

"I don't know what I think," she said with a tired sigh, still not looking up. "Either way, nobody's going to believe anything I say about this because they all want this too much. Damon wants Katherine, Benji wants Katherine dead, you have your own weird agenda, and I could really care less. I just want the grimoire to read about my curse."

"Then why are you trying to open the tomb at all?"

Silence covered them like a heavy blanket, making it hard to breathe. The answer started to appear to the doctor like a pair of headlights approaching through a thick fog. At first she doubted what the silence was telling her, but as the seconds passed, there was no mistake. Dropping her collected mask, Dr. Diane pushed away from the desk and approached her daughter, the anger rolling off of her in waves.

"Say it isn't true," she whispered. Mikaela didn't say anything. "Answer me, God dammit!"

"Why?" Mikaela snapped, straightening up and narrowing her eyes. "Obviously you already have an idea of what the 'truth' is, so why should I bother to correct it?" Dr. Diane resisted the urge to shove her back and balled her fists.

"Are you in love with him?" she demanded. She saw the girl's eyes widen, but only for a second before returning to her glare. It didn't take a psychic to sense that she'd hit a nerve.

"The curse is hereditary, isn't it?" The question was a rhetoric one: Dr. Diane had told her as much only minutes before. "When were you planning on telling me about it?"

"I didn't think it would be so active in you," she nearly yelled, not backing down. "Your third eye makes you more susceptible than I was. Under normal circumstances, you would only be having the occasional nightmare or sense of déjà vu."

"And the whole coming-back-to-life thing," she added for her, glaring. "I suppose you couldn't have mentioned it after the car accident?"

"Oh come on, you've been dying since you were born!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "Fevers, injuries, poisoning- I swear you died at least eight times before the age of five, much less before the accident. You were always looking for danger, and nothing good would have come from you knowing. Hell, even now that you know, you're practically suicidal, associating with that damn vampire."

"As my mother, you should have told me," she insisted. Dr. Diane could tell that she was surprised by the revelation of her many encounters with death, but the girl had inherited her stubbornness and wasn't going to let it cost her the argument. "You could have warned me and I would have been more prepared for all of-"

"How the hell did you expect to be prepared?" Dr. Diane was reaching the end of her patience: she'd never been one for coddling. "I told you_,_ the curse wouldn't have mattered until-"

"Until what?" she cut off challengingly. "What, pray tell, could have made the fact that I'm possessed by our great-great-whatever-the-fuck-she-is grandmother a subject worth talking about?"

"Benji," she answered, lowering her voice to a growl. Mikaela rolled her eyes. "This isn't a joke! You think you can trust him, but-!"

"For all of his other agendas that you keep mentioning, he's the one who told me how to break the curse, which is more than I can say for you," she stated.

"Which you aren't planning on doing," she reminded her. "Killing Katherine is the only way, and you're letting Damon's feelings for her and your feelings for him get in the way of doing it." Mikaela snatched the grimoire and her copies off the desk, signaling that the conversation was nearing a close. "Mi-"

"Benji was there when I died," she interrupted angrily, "and Damon was the one who actually went to Georgia to make sure I came back home, even if he didn't need me to open the tomb. You, on the other hand-"

"He's nothing but trouble! Everyone dies around-!"

"-are never there!" she finished, grabbing her backpack and turning to the door.

"What are you planning to do, Kaela?" she called after her. "You can't have Damon on your side and break the curse, too. You know that."

"I'll figure it out," she stated, walking out of the office.

"Don't you walk away from me, Mikaela Greene!" Dr. Diane warned, storming after her. Mikaela was already out the front door when she waved over her shoulder, completely ignoring the authoritative tone in the woman's voice.

"See you tonight," she called. Dr. Diane growled and slammed the front door shut, feeling some of the frustration evaporate into the loud noise as a result of the action. Motherhood was a job she simply wasn't cut out for, and no one knew that better than she did. Not a day passed by that she didn't hate the curse, that she didn't wish things had turned out differently for her and her family.

Mikaela would never have any idea just how much damage Benji was capable of causing, and she was only just beginning to understand why the curse was a curse at all. She had no clue that, no matter how much she tried to, she would not get over her first love, not until Elizabeth left her body; she had no idea how many years Joseph had spent trying to fill up the space in her heart that only Nikolai could; she didn't have the slightest clue that Benji would do whatever he had to do to get what he wanted, even if that meant trampling over everything Mikaela cared about to get it.

She couldn't know how hard Dr. Diane had fought to end the curse before Mikaela could find out the true horror it could bring.

* * *

_It wasn't every day your daughter turned thirteen years old. Diane stood outside her daughter's room, arms wrapped around herself as she debated entering. It had now been over thirteen years since graduation night, and while not much had happened, so much had changed. Joseph had taken on odd jobs and Zack had stepped in so that she could finish medical school, and while the world hadn't ended graduation night like she'd expected it to, they'd had to grow up much too fast to keep up with life. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to Mikaela's room and stepped inside. _

_Even on her thirteenth birthday, the girl was scared of the dark. Diane stepped over to her daughter's bed and sat next to her sleeping form, simply observing her calm face. She had a thick set of bangs and had convinced the Sheriff's daughter to do temporary highlights in her hair; of all the colors in the world, she'd chosen the color blue. Those very curiosities were what she'd grown to love about the headstrong girl. It was strange how the one thing she hadn't wanted had turned out to be the single person she loved the most in the world. Diane reached over and touched her cheek softly, smiling when the teenager leaned into her hand._

"_Love you too, Mom," she mumbled, licking her lips and snuggling into her pillow. Diane sighed and looked up, only slightly surprised by what she saw in the mirror across the room. She could see herself perched on the edge of her daughter's bed, but standing behind her was a third person. Donning a tattered, simple gown normally worn under clothes, a woman with tan skin, brown hair and striking green eyes looked back at her through the reflection, a solemn expression on her face. Diane had only seen her once in a vision Joseph had projected to her, but the woman herself and her voice, she was more than familiar with._

"_Elizabeth," she greeted through tight lips. Elizabeth nodded unnecessarily. Diane tightened her jaw. "What are you doing here?"_

"_It's time," Elizabeth answered, the words entering Diane's mind without her having to speak them out loud. _

"_You waited until I was sixteen," Diane pressed, still not understanding. The ghost's expression didn't change._

"_She's stronger than you because of her third eye. If I wait any longer, she'll build up a wall against me."_

"_You can wait another year," Diane insisted. "She's still afraid of the dark, for crying out-"_

"_I've waited long enough."_

"_She's my kid!" Diane exclaimed. "Please, you can keep me, just leave Mikaela out of this!"_

"_You know I can't do that," Elizabeth reminded her. Despite Diane's retorts, she stepped forward and placed her hands against the young teen's forehead. Diane looked down at her daughter, tears pouring out of her eyes when she saw her frown. When she looked up at the mirror again, Elizabeth was gone._

_No, not gone._

_Mikaela whimpered and turned over, seemingly from a nightmare. Her hands balled into fists and she gritted her teeth, resisting the intrusion. Diane watched helplessly as her daughter's discomfort quickly turned into violent fits, her face scrunched up in pain and exertion. "No, no," she whispered over and over again, quietly pleading. Diane reached out to touch her, but an arm like steel wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her to the doorway, much too strong to be human._

_Diane struggled against the hold, trying to dig her nails into the man's skin to no avail. "Just let it happen," he said soothingly into her ear. She bared her teeth and thrashed her legs furiously, a wild animal tied down._

"_God dammit Benji, she ruined my life!" she yelled. "I hate her, I hate her so much! Why can't she just **die**?"_

_Suddenly Mikaela froze, a scream choking in the back of her throat. Her eyes flew open, but rather than the warm brown Diane had grown to love, they glowed a bright, unnatural green. After a couple of seconds, she let out a breath and blinked, shaking her head. Benji was gone before she could see him, leaving Diane standing alone in the door frame. "Mom? Are you okay?" Mikaela asked, genuine confusion in her voice as she looked up at her mother. "You were yelling something just now." Her eyes still glowed green, but as far as Diane could tell, it was Mikaela speaking, not the ghost that would reside in her body for the rest of her life._

_They both hardly had a chance to continue speaking before the room burst into flames._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I'll wait for 5 reviews before uploading the next chapter... Which, trust me, is going to be exciting...**


	26. RockBottom

**Author's Note:**

**Such positive feedback to Dr. Diane's story! Ha ha you guys are simply the best ;)**

**As promised, here is Chapter 26, aka: the Tomb Chapter. I debated giving it a name with more pizzazz**** than "The Tomb Chapter" (There was "Saying Goodbye", "Alone in a Tomb of 30", "Without Words", etc.), but my creative juices started to burn out right about the time that I had to fill in the "chapter name" section, and it got the name that it did. C'est la vie.**

**Hope you guys enjoy! This is a nice, long chapter to thank y'all for the support this summer. Can't wait to read/hear what you guys thought about it!**

* * *

Not all vampires were jerks, but being a Grade-A Asshole was an art that Damon had perfected to such a degree that Mikaela had to wonder if it was engraved in his genetic code. The sun had set a couple of hours before and the clock on the dashboard of Damon's car warned that it was almost time to start the spell, but she was in no hurry for him to get them to get to their destination. Mikaela crossed her arms and pulled her jacket closer around herself; even with her black long-sleeve, jean jacket and black scarf, the night was cold, and she was regretting with her whole being the moment she'd agreed to hitch a ride with Damon.

"You're making it hard not to hate you right now," she muttered, glaring daggers out the windshield. Damon smirked, which only fueled her annoyance with him. "Just do it already, before my fingers fall off!" she snapped.

"Fine, fine!" he exclaimed, and turned on the heater. Immediately cold air shot out of the air vents, but after five agonizing seconds, the air got a strange smell and started to warm. She eagerly held her hands up to the air vents, rubbing her fingers together to get the hot blood running through them. He chuckled and she continued to glare at him.

"Ass."

"Hey, I gave you an option," he said, holding up a hand in defense. "Nobody told you to freeze." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, because letting you warm me is actually an option," she muttered sarcastically.

Ever since they'd gotten back from Georgia, he'd taken it upon himself to bombard her incessantly with sexual jokes, something she assumed he was doing in an attempt to relieve the tension that had been between them ever since Georgia. The drive back to Mystic Falls had been one of the most hypocritical experiences of her life, filled with small talk and arguments over the chosen radio stations, when really there were only two things on both of their minds: the tomb and Damon's dream.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on his dream, it had simply happened: one moment she'd been dreaming about Stefan and Elena finding and burning the grimoire, and the next thing she knew she was walking in on a dream of her and Damon kissing. If his storming into her room was any indication, the dream had been of his making. He'd frequently joked about an attraction she had for him, but it was clearly a front: he had no idea what she thought of him, and quite frankly, she didn't think he had a clear view of what he felt for her, at least, not with Katherine standing in the way. Taking all those things into account, upon arrival at Mystic Falls, she'd simply pretended that nothing had happened, a difficult task considering he wanted to do nothing but act like something more had happened.

"So, who's the witch running the tomb party?" Damon asked, pulling her out of her thoughts as he drove his car onto the back road of the woods. "Now that we've established that you're not a witch, I assume you've already found someone to cover for you."

She nodded absently, checking her backpack for the third time since they'd left to make sure she had what she needed. "My mom and Benji are already over there," she answered. "They should have set everything up by now." Everything was present and accounted for: copy of spell, flashlight, extra batteries, matches, two vials filled with vervain (just in case) and a pair of gloves (for the cold). The gasoline for the rest of the tomb vampires was in the trunk. "Benji has a friend who wants to get someone out of the tomb, too."

"What?" he exclaimed, very nearly stopping the car. "Who?"

"I don't remember her name," she said with a shrug. "She wants to get this vampire named 'Pearl' out."

"Pearl?" he repeated. She nodded.

"You know her?"

He took a moment to reply. "She and Katherine were best friends back in the day," he said. "She ran an apothecary." She didn't know how to tell him, but she could really care less about who she was "back in the day". He seemed to catch on and changed the subject. "Who's to say they won't just open the tomb without us?"

Mikaela couldn't hold back her smirk. "I only gave them half of the spell," she said, pulling the full copy of the spell out of her bag. "Even if we're working together, I trust them about as far as I can throw them."

Damon gave her an appraising look and shot his hand out, ruffling her hair. "That's my girl," he said approvingly. "Don't trust anyone." He pulled his hand back quickly, but she still had to make a conscious effort to keep from smiling to herself. Since when had she been "his" girl? The whole "crush" thing they had going on was flat-out ridiculous.

"I'm trusting you here," she pointed out, shaking off the nerves, "and you're trusting me." He nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, but once I get Katherine, I'm leaving and not looking back," he stated. "When I leave, you can go back to not trusting anyone." The excitement to be reunited with his beloved filled the air with vibrations, but she sensed something beneath it all that she couldn't clearly identify. She didn't have time to dwell on it, though, as he changed the subject to the single most uncomfortable topic.

"So, what's up with you and your mom?" he asked, leaning back in his seat. "One minute you act like you'd gladly become a vampire to be able to rip her throat out, and now you've asked her to help us get into the tomb."

"I didn't ask her for help, Benji did," she corrected shortly.

"And since when did that guy get involved?"

She hesitated before answering, but after a moment's thought, figured there was no point in keeping many secrets. "We needed a witch, and I knew he could convince Mom," she admitted, shrugging. "All it took was a phone call."

"So, indirectly-"

"I had no choice," she cut off. "Bonnie and her grandmother pretty much hate your guts, and Mom is the only other witch that I know."

"Remind me why you two hate each other?" This time she truly did hesitate. "Oh come on," he urged. "It's not like I can tell anyone. Remember: I don't have friends."

She shook her head and chuckled lightly. "It's... complicated," she said carefully. He gave her a doubtful look and she rolled her eyes. "I mean it!"

"My dad killed me," he stated, raising a brow. "I doubt anything your mom did can top that." The words held a weight behind them, but he didn't allow it to show in his face. Even if he spoke with a casual enough tone, she knew that something like that had to leave a mark: it was impossible for it not to. A short silence passed before she spoke.

"My mom tried." The words weren't a new discovery, but they felt alien on her lips. Damon stayed completely silent, but kept a cool expression and focused his eyes on the road. She hadn't told anyone the truth, not even her father, and once she started, the rest of the explanation flowed out of its own accord. "You've heard about the two fires there were at my house, right?" He nodded. "I don't remember the one from fourteen years ago, but the one from four years ago she started in my room, the night of my birthday."

"I thought you said she went crazy," he said carefully. She shook her head.

"She went kinda crazy afterward, but she's not crazy," she stated. "She tried to kill me, and since then, she hasn't been able to stay in the same house as me for extended periods of time."

"Did you father know?"

She shook her head again. "She hated me, not him," she muttered. "It would have broken his heart. Then again, she did plenty of that herself, spending an accumulation of about six months with us over four years." She sighed and adjusted herself in her seat. "I'd appreciate your discretion."

He finally looked at her again, those compelling eyes of his meeting hers full on. "Your secret's safe with me," he said, cocking his head to the side with a smile. She lifted a corner of her mouth and projected her gratitude to him, brushing her consciousness with his. The moment ended as they drove ahead and fire light shone through the trees, suggesting that the night was only going to get more complicated.

"Oh hell no," she whispered, her stomach sinking.

Her suspicion was confirmed once they parked on the side of the road and got out of the car. As she got the gasoline out of the trunk and Damon carried her bag, sounds of laughter, music, and talking came from the old cemetery. It wasn't until they started making their way towards the noise that she remembered exactly what the occasion was. Caroline had texted her about a party with free beer in the woods, but Mikaela hadn't considered the possibility that it might be going on close to the tomb. Damon didn't seem to care much for the human bystanders; he simply latched onto her arm and led her through the fray like a man with a mission.

As she weaved through the party-goers, Mikaela tried to keep her head down and avoid attention: the last thing she needed was for anyone to be following her to a tomb filled with vampires. Thankfully nobody called out her name or made considerable eye contact- that is, except for Caroline, who was staring after them with a tight jaw and narrow eyes, but seeing as she attached herself to Matt the moment she saw them, Mikaela dismissed her as harmless. Just as she thought she was in the clear, her phone started to ring and she stopped to pull it out of her pocket.

"Hold on a second," she said, holding Damon back with one hand and sliding open her cell phone with the other. Damon groaned and moved next to her, draping his arm over her shoulders to keep her close. Staying focused on uselessly trying not to react to his proximity, she lifted her phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Kaela! Where are you?" Tyler's drunken voice sounded through her phone speaker, shooting straight into her ear drum. She winced and pulled the phone away a couple of inches. Damon rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently. "I need to talk to you!"

"I'm at Duke's party," she answered quickly, ignoring Damon's unspoken complaints. "Can I call you later?"

"What? Awesome, so am I!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I'll find you!"

"No, wait, I-" When she looked at the phone screen, he'd already hung up. "Damn it," she cursed quietly. When she turned to Damon he had a smirk on his face and she glared. "What the hell are you smiling about?" she asked testily, not in the mood for teasing and anxious to get away from the party before Tyler found her. The last thing she needed was to deal with him while dealing with the tomb issue, too. "Let's get out of here before-"

"Yeah, let's go somewhere quieter," he agreed, and pulled her closer. She immediately stiffened as he steered her to the woods, pressing his lips against the top of her head in a seemingly affectionate kiss. While under any other circumstance the contact would have made her heart rate pick up, she felt more confused than excited because of the teasing nature of it. Obviously the precise spot on her head that he'd touched and the whole span of her shoulders felt warmer than the rest of her body, but it was nothing out of the ordinary, at least not when it came to them. Before she could verbally question the gesture, a flare of anger reached her from behind and she looked back to see where it had come from.

All she saw was Tyler's back as he turned around and stormed off.

Even before he started laughing, she knew that Damon had kissed her because he'd known that Tyler was watching. She shoved him away, but it was too late: Tyler was long gone, heading straight for the pick-up trucks with the kegs of beer. She let out a growl of frustration and marched on, not bothering to make sure he was following. "You're such an ass!" she hissed, loud enough that he could hear her. "You did that on purpose!"

"Obviously," he said, completely unashamed by the admittance as he easily kept up with her. "Consider it my 'thank you' gift for helping me out."

"And what the hell kind of logic did you use to come up with that?" she snapped. They'd already left the party behind, but she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and Tyler's jealousy attack. "I mean, here I am helping you get your damn girlfriend back, and you're riling up my ex-boyfriend. That seems like a shitty way to show your appreciation."

"Then that means you don't understand how we're wired," he insisted, smirking a satisfied smirk that made her want to punch him in the face. "You haven't had a boyfriend since the Lockwood brat, am I right?" She didn't merit his assumption with an answer and he read the unspoken confirmation in her silence. "Then trust me, you're gonna be seeing a lot more of him now."

"If it's alright with you, I'd rather not discuss my ex-boyfriend," she said, crossing her arms. It really was colder than she'd expected it to be. "I'd be happy if the whole town would just pretend that nothing happened between us."

"You don't mean that," he said, scoffing. She stiffened when he moved next to her, but didn't move away. "I mean, come on. It's clear you two aren't over each other."

"Can we _please _stop talking about this?"

"If you were over him, you wouldn't have kissed him while we were looking for Vicki," he said confidently. "You might still be upset about the whole cheating issue, but you still have feelings for him."

"It doesn't matter!" she exclaimed. "My life is too supernatural for anybody. And why the hell are you paying attention to who I'm kissing?" She regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth and she saw the triumph cross his face.

"So you don't deny that you still have feelings for him?" he asked, ignoring her question. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course I do," she muttered, surrendering. "He was my first love. You don't just forget that."

"Apparently I do," he pointed out.

It was wrong, sick and twisted for him to make a joke about the tragedy that had led to her curse, but she couldn't help it: all of the stress of the past couple of days had drained her energy, and she was a victim to herself. She covered her mouth and started to laugh, not even trying to hold back the giggles as they erupted from her throat. The joke wasn't even that funny, but exhaustion was starting to take its toll.

The church came into sight and her laughter quieted. Something about a church with 27 vampires buried underneath it was sobering, even to her. She didn't look at Damon as she walked down the steps into the candlelit tomb, but she could sense his apprehension and took a deep breath as she descended.

"And the dynamic duo arrives, just on time," Benji announced, holding out his arms in welcome. "Did you bring the gasoline?" Mikaela held up the container and set her bag down by the tomb wall. The whole area had been cleared of debris and a circle had been drawn for the spell. Candles were lit around the area along with the torches her family had used when they used to have barbecues with the other Founding Families. The setup gave a warm, golden glow on the whole area. The tomb door with the pentagram carved into the stone, however, was anything but warm and welcoming.

Dr. Diane stood in the center of the circle, reading over the spell. "Did you bring the other part?" she asked, not looking up. "This only lifts the spell that keeps the vampires in the tomb, but doesn't open the door." She was obviously still bitter from the fight from earlier, but she'd at least shown up, so she couldn't be that uncooperative. Mikaela pulled the copy from the grimoire out of her bag and handed it to her, not apologizing for her distrust.

When she turned around, Benji and Damon were standing across from each other, sizing each other up. Resisting the urge to groan, she marched up to them and stood in the middle of the silent staring contest. It was then that she noticed Damon pull a bag of blood out from his jacket pocket, and she realized Katherine would need a jump start when she got out. Hopefully Benji's friend had brought blood of her own for her mother...

"Are we all set up?" Benji asked, clearly not wanting to spend more seconds than necessary in Damon's company. Dr. Diane didn't reply, simply began to read the chant from the copy. The air seemed to buzz as the woman read the words, words in a language both new and yet familiar to Mikaela. The magic in the atmosphere brought a nostalgia to her, reminding her of a time when she had been able to perform spells herself; then again, even at that time, the ability had only been because of Elizabeth's participation. She wasn't like her mother who, after Elizabeth had passed on to her descendant, could still harness the energy. She had always been more like her father, anyways. Damon moved next to her, standing close enough that their arms were touching.

"Do you think you'll miss me when I leave?" he asked, leaning over so he could whisper in her ear. His breath skittered across her cheek and she thanked God she'd worn a scarf to cover her neck, otherwise she may not have been able to hold back the shivers. He was looking at her face for a reaction, and when she turned so she could look at him, their lips were only an inch or two apart. She should have pulled back slightly so that they could each return to their own personal space, but she didn't. Her eyes flitted down to look at those perfectly shaped lips, and before she could begin to fantasize about the amazing pleasure they could give her, she returned her gaze to his eyes. His tone had been teasing, but she couldn't bring herself to reply in the same fashion.

"Unfortunately," she answered quietly. "A little." He held her stare for a moment, and without any warning, leaned forward, closing the space between them. Sparks seemed to fly off of her skin as he pressed his lips softly to the spot right next to her lips, lingering for a second before pulling back.

"Thank you for helping me," he said, the sincerity dripping from his every word. Mikaela's heart was speeding ridiculously in her throat and she felt like her face was on fire, but she nodded and cleared her throat.

"Y-you're welcome," she forced out, mentally cursing when her voice wavered. She wished she could deny the attraction she felt for him and the fact that a part of it had to do with more than just his physical being, but she couldn't, not to herself. When she sensed the conflict of emotions raging in him, too, she had a feeling that she wasn't doing so well at hiding it from him, either.

The flames on the torches grew suddenly, giving her a distraction. She still felt his eyes on her, but didn't hold her breath on the idea that they might stay there; any moment, Katherine would take back her throne as the woman of his eye, and she would have no more stolen moments with him. As much as she hated to accept it, the thought of that formed a lump in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to pull herself together. He may have saved her on more than one occasion, but he'd always been Katherine's.

With a loud groan, the stone door of the tomb creaked open one, two, three inches, allowing just enough room to get a grip on the door and pull it back. Damon moved forward and did just that, pulling the door back enough so that he could fit comfortably through. Dr. Diane stopped chanting and dropped her arms tiredly, turning around.

"You have about five minutes before the door closes again, give or take," she said, her voice weak, but firm. She sniffed and touched a hand to her upper lip. At the blood she found on her fingers, she corrected herself. "Make that three minutes."

Despite everything that had happened between them, Mikaela couldn't be heartless. She pulled a napkin out of her jacket pocket and handed it to her, a silent apology. She accepted it with a nod and held it to her nose, unfazed by the sight of blood. Mikaela opened her mouth to say something, but Damon cut her off.

"Let's go," he called, holding out his hand. "We've got a vampire to find."

Her breath caught in her throat. "What?" she asked, understanding what he was saying, but wishing that she didn't.

"I trust you, but I don't trust any of you guys," he stated, nodding at Dr. Diane and Benji. "No offense."

"None taken," Dr. Diane muttered indifferently.

"She's not going in there," Benji stated firmly. "I'll go in with you, but she stays out here."

In a flash Damon was at her side, hand firmly gripping her upper arm. She gasped and he pulled her to the tomb entrance before Benji could move, an arm wrapped around her neck. "I'm sorry, but I don't like you," he said, stepping back into the tomb and pulling Mikaela with him. "We'll be right out." Dr. Diane watched them with narrow eyes, her jaw set tightly in anger, and Benji rushed to the tomb entrance, glaring after them. Mikaela held on tightly to Damon's arm, somehow sensing that he was only handling her so roughly to piss off Benji.

Surely enough, once he'd pulled her out of their line of sight, he released her. Without a word he left her to go find Katherine, and it was in the silence that followed that she was able to take in her surroundings. The tomb was dark, of course, but more than that, it was cold. She crossed her arms and pulled her jacket closer to her, suddenly wishing she'd grabbed her gloves out of her bag when she'd had the chance. Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she was able to make out shapes, only mere shadows that lacked the detail necessary to determine exactly what they were. In a moment she remembered that she had a small flashlight in her pocket and pulled it out, clicking the end to turn it on.

Blue-white light shot out of the end of the device, lighting up the area enough for her to see what was in front of her. Even if she'd expected to see the desiccated vampires, she still jumped slightly when the light fell on two vampires slumped against each other. They looked like they'd been sucked dry (something she couldn't help but find ironic) and their clothes resembled tissue paper, weakened from the century and a half that had passed. Spider webs connected them to the walls and a light coat of dust was their blanket, and for all the world they may as well have been dead. It made her hair stand on end to think that the one thing keeping the monsters from wandering among the living ran through her veins. She noticed a woman sitting apart from the couple, and just as she was planning to simply leave the tomb, she heard footsteps behind her.

A teenager stood in the entrance that she'd just come through. She seemed familiar, but Mikaela couldn't place where she'd seen the short girl with her black hair and pale skin before. She was dressed somewhat strangely in torn black jeans, layered jackets and combat boots, but even with that particularity, she couldn't remember. She met her eyes, and the girl's eyes seemed to spark with an idea.

"Who are you?" Mikaela asked, not liking the idea of sharing a tomb with her. The girl stepped forward, and in a way that she hadn't been able to do with other vampires before, Mikaela was able to tell that the girl was a member of the undead. She immediately stepped back, but the girl continued to move forward.

"I'm Ana," she answered with a friendly enough voice. "I'd like for you to meet my mother." Mikaela didn't like the vibes she was getting from her and suddenly longed for the two vials of vervain that she'd left in her bag. In the blink of an eye Ana pushed her back, shoving her to the ground next to the solitary woman and knocking the flashlight out of her hand. Mikaela cried out and tried to get back up, but Ana grabbed her wrist, and at a speed that only a vampire could achieve, tore her fangs into the bare flesh there and held it up to the vampire's mouth.

She couldn't stop herself from screaming as the pain erupted from the bite, causing her hand to spasm. She fought against Ana's grip, but the girl was too strong and too determined to get away from. At the taste of blood, the vampire (who she figured was Pearl) raised her hands and held onto her arm, sinking her fangs into the flesh and lapping up any and all blood she could get. Running on an instinct she'd only gotten on touch with on few occasions, Mikaela reached out to the ground with her other hand and grabbed a fistful of dirt, then threw it into the girl's face.

Immediately Ana cried out and let go, and with a yell to release the pain, Mikaela wrenched her wrist out of Pearl's mouth. The vampire clawed at her, hungry for more blood, but Mikaela scrambled away and shot to her feet, putting enough distance between them that she couldn't touch her. She heard Ana snarl behind her and whorled around to see the girl with fangs bared, ready to attack.

Like a knight in shining armor Benji arrived just as Ana was about to pounce. Benji moved in front of Mikaela and growled at Ana, snapping his fangs at her warningly. Recognizing her disadvantage, Ana backed down, the darkened veins around her eyes smoothing out and her fangs sinking back. "I just want my mother," she stated, and as much as Mikaela wanted to punch the girl in the face, she knew she was being sincere. Benji looked at her questioningly and she nodded, silently telling him she was alright. After a couple of seconds he calmed down, his face returning to normal as well.

"Take her and get out," he ordered, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "Consider our partnership over."

"Fine," Ana muttered, moving past him. She lifted her mother up by slinging an arm over her shoulder and led her to the exit, quietly whispering reassurances to the woman. Benji squeezed Mikaela's shoulder and followed the girl out, most likely to make sure the vampire didn't try to make Dr. Diane the woman's second course.

Once she'd picked up her flashlight again (which, thankfully, wasn't broken), she ventured further into the tomb, running on her radar to find Damon. She needed to find him and make sure they got out of the tomb, fast: three minutes would be over very soon, and her mother was in no shape to open the tomb again. It was a feat enough that she'd even managed to open it at all. "Damon!" she called, waving her flashlight back and forth to make sure no vampires were too close to her. The smell of her blood was starting to wake them up, and there was no telling what lengths they'd go to for something to eat. She held the end of her scarf to her wrist to try and stop the bleeding, but her fingers were already prickling from blood loss; she'd have to either go to a hospital or ask her mother to patch it up for her when she got out.

"Damon!" She checked her watch anxiously. They had only a minute or so left to get out of the tomb, and the clock was ticking fast. A yell of anguish and the sound of objects crashing to the floor led her straight to him in the farthest part of the tomb. "Damon, what-?"

"She's not here!" he yelled. He stood in the center of an empty chamber, the bag of blood held in his hand and an expression of unmasked pain etched across his face. She froze in the entryway as he yelled out and threw the bag against the wall, the blood exploding out and spattering everything within proximity. Mikaela felt a few stray droplets land on her face, but she didn't bother to wipe them away: the world was shifting.

She'd been right.

The tidal wave of pain was there: the betrayal, the realization that he was unwanted, the loss of purpose, the feeling that she had died all over again... Everything was pouring over him, and threatening to wash over her, too, but she wouldn't let it. Somewhere between the unspoken goodbyes Damon had been saying to her, she'd sensed this was coming. Without saying a word, she reached forward and grabbed his arm. He jerked away and she reached forward again, this time with both hands.

"Damon, we have to go," she stated. She sensed him wanting to simply give up and stay there, and she shook him angrily. "Come on!"

"Just leave me here!" he exclaimed, pulling away. "She's not here, there's nothing-!"

"Damn it Damon, don't do this to me!" she yelled, cutting him off. "I need you! Please!"

The words were out before she could stop them, but they served their purpose. The glassy look in his eyes that the loss had given him lifted just enough for him to cooperate. Not wasting any time she pocketed her flashlight, took his hand and started to run, knowing that the three minutes had already passed. The tomb rumbled as the tomb door announced that it was closing and she picked up speed. Her mother and Benji were shouting her name from the exit and she bounded forward as fast as she could, her hand tightly holding onto Damon's for dear life. She saw the rectangle of light that was the doorway and focused on it, hand outstretched to hold the door if she had to.

Mikaela had never been a physicist, but as she moved forward, she was certain that the light should have been getting bigger, not smaller. Her stomach dropped and she cried out desperately, but there was no stopping it. She let go of Damon and reached out, only to have her outstretched hands slap flat against the closed tomb door. They were submerged in darkness and silence, and it was with a cold feeling sliding down her back that she realized the truth.

They were trapped.

"No! No, no, **no!**" she shouted, pounding her fists against the door. "Mom!"

Damon went next to her and tried to push open the door, but it was no use: the door was sealed. Voices sounded muffled from the other side, not clear enough for her to make out any words. Just as the panic was about to make her chest burst, the Jurassic Park theme sounded from her jacket pocket. Mikaela pulled out her cellphone and eagerly held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she answered breathily.

"Mikaela, are you alright?" Her mother's worried voice sounded from the phone, providing a sense of security it had never managed to do before. Mikaela swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded even if she couldn't see her do it.

"Yeah, Damon and I are here," she said quickly. "My wrist is bleeding, but I think I'll be able to wrap it with my scarf. I'm sorry, I tried, but-"

"It's okay, I know," she said soothingly. "Can you hold out for one hour?"

Mikaela couldn't help but laugh, even if it was a dark laugh. "I don't have much choice," she reasoned. "What's the plan?"

"I'm going to get Sheila," she replied. "I don't have the energy, but maybe the two of us can open the door again."

"Are you sure she'll help us?" Mikaela asked. "She and Bonnie hate Damon." Damon didn't even have the will to say anything in response.

"She'll help us," she said reassuringly. "We're family. Just stay put, okay?"

"Alright," Mikaela said, and hung up.

One hour.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. Not wanting to be in the dark, she took out her flashlight and balanced it so that it was set up straight, pointing at the ceiling. She looked up and saw Damon sit down across from her, a lost look on his face.

With no more distractions, the tidal wave she'd been avoiding earlier crashed, and she felt every second of it. Tears formed and spilled over his cheeks, tears he made no move to wipe away or hide. He didn't care, not for his pride, not even much for his own life. In a way that had nothing to do with being psychic, she felt her heart start to break in her chest. She couldn't see him that way.

Without thinking it over, she got up and sat next to him, sliding as close to him as she could. He didn't acknowledge her presence, but he didn't need to. She wrapped her unhurt arm around his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. Had it been anyone else, she'd have been trying to come up with something to say, but she had a feeling that he didn't want to hear anything. The tears continued to pour as the minutes passed but he didn't make a sound, and neither did she.

When she started to feel dizzy, she lowered her gaze to her wrist. The gashes were deep and the smeared blood made it look that much worse, which wasn't far from the truth: two sets of teeth had torn into the veins, and they'd been bleeding freely for a while already. She wiped the blood away and pressed her scarf to it, and within only a minute, blood seeped up to her fingertips. She was already dizzy and cold from the blood loss, and with a whispered curse, she closed her eyes.

Damon shifted after a while and lifted his arm. Feeling consciousness start to slip away, she dropped against his chest and he draped his arm over her shoulder, holding her still. He leaned closer but didn't say anything or touch her any more. A second later she felt something warm and wet press against her mouth. Out of pure instinct she recoiled and tried to turn her head away, but he'd been expecting that and held her still.

She tasted blood on her lips and realized through the haze that Damon was giving her his blood. The thought made her stomach turn and she tried to push his arm away, but he wouldn't budge. She'd had vampire blood before, but she'd never been awake while receiving it, and tasting the full force of the coppery liquid made her want to vomit- at first, at least. Once the first mouthful made its way down her throat, a switch seemed to flip in her body, and suddenly she not only wanted the blood, but _needed_ it. She held on to his arm and leaned closer, eagerly drinking up as much as she could. She felt it get to work almost immediately, shooting through her body and stringing together the torn tissue, closing up what the vampires' teeth had opened in a way that no other substance could. The feeling was amazing, and she wondered if any human sensation could compare.

He let her drink her fill before pulling his wrist away. Spent, she wiped her mouth with her scarf and leaned onto him, fitting perfectly into the space under his arm. He didn't object, but she knew that even if he'd given her his blood, he wasn't really there: he was spiraling down a hole of despair, lost without Katherine. From the little that she could see with her third eye, the hole seemed so deep, she wondered if anyone could crawl out of it.

* * *

Not even two hours later, they were on their way back to the boarding house, driving through the night in Damon's car. Bonnie's grandmother had shown up, and between her and Dr. Diane, they'd been able to open the tomb just long enough for Damon and Mikaela to get out. Benji had been disappointed that Katherine wasn't in the tomb, but had done a perfect job of not showing it. Dr. Diane and Mikaela hadn't spoken beyond pleasantries, but Mikaela wasn't upset: she'd heard the concern in her mother's voice when she'd been locked in the tomb, and that was more genuine feeling than she'd shown her in years.

But all of those things were the last things on her mind.

Damon pulled the car into the driveway and parked, killing the engine. He hadn't spoken a word since they'd gotten out of the tomb, and quite frankly, she didn't expect him to. He opened his door and got out of the car, and she quickly followed.

When they got inside, they came across Stefan in the foyer. He'd just gotten off the phone, and it only took a second for Mikaela to remember that he had no idea what had happened. Before he could ask anything, she sent a mental warning for him to hold his tongue, and gave him an even stare. Damon walked past his brother silently, making his way to the stairs. Stefan stared after him and then gave Mikaela a questioning look.

"Katherine wasn't in the tomb," she said quietly, walking up to him so he could hear her better. Stefan furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him. "Yes, we got into the tomb, but I don't want to answers questions tonight. Call Bonnie's grandmother or Benji and they'll fill you in." With that, she followed Damon and quietly stepped up the stairs.

Even if she'd only been to his room on one or two occasions, the walk there felt very familiar, and she knew that the familiarity was her own, not Elizabeth's. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. A lamp in the corner of the room was the only source of light, and with it she could see him lying on the bed, his shoes and shirt thrown on the floor. He didn't look in her direction as she walked in, and she didn't announce herself, either.

Making as little noise as possible, she walked up to his bed and stepped out of her boots. When he didn't say anything, she peeled off her socks and her jacket and unraveled her scarf, dropping them all into a pile next to the dresser. She lifted herself on top of the covers and laid on her side, resting her head on a pillow. Once she'd settled, she closed her eyes and reached over. Her hand fell on his chest and she left it there, waiting to see if he'd move away. He didn't, and just to make sure, she reached out and brushed his consciousness.

He was in the same state he'd been in inside of the tomb, lost and only spiraling further down. In the strange way that she was able to translate what she sensed into something tangible, being in his mind felt like standing in the middle of a strong rainfall. She couldn't see beyond her arm's length and couldn't hear anything other than the dull roar of the water falling against the ground. She was so cold that she should have been shaking, but all that she felt was numb. There should have been wind blowing with the storm, but there was none; the wind itself would have been a consolation, would a been a variation from the dull pain that the loss was causing.

Mikaela pulled away from his mind, allowing him his privacy. After a couple of minutes he turned onto his side. She opened her eyes and saw that he was facing her, a blank look on his face as he stayed completely still. He wasn't crying anymore, but he may as well have been: he hadn't calmed down, he'd just run out of energy. She touched his cheek softly, running her fingertips over the cold skin sticky with dried tears and then settling her hand flat against his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

She dropped her hand onto the space in between them and adjusted herself so that she was more comfortable. He continued to stare at her, and soon she started to feel dizzy and drift away. She wasn't sure why she'd felt the need to be near him, but as she fell deeper and deeper into sleep, she felt more and more certain that it was where she needed to be. He'd killed her, insulted her, hurt her, and further blotched up her reputation, but none of that seemed to matter.

He couldn't be alone, not when everything was falling apart the way it was. When she'd been dealing with the fire and the family problems that came with it, Tyler had been there; when Tyler and her had broken up, her father and the girls had been there; after her father had fallen into the coma, Elena and her family had taken her in; and when she'd been kidnapped by a vampire and taken to Georgia, Damon had been there. As lonely as she felt at times, it didn't compare to how alone he'd become the moment he'd discovered that Katherine wasn't in that tomb.

With her last thread of consciousness, Mikaela only felt one last thing before completely succumbing to exhaustion: Damon reaching out and taking her hand, not saying anything, and not needing to. Some things didn't need to be spoken out loud to be understood, and without words, for a moment, she understood better than anyone, and that alone was enough.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**I'll wait for the standard amount of reviews to continue work on chapter 27 ^_^ Thanks for reading, guys!**


	27. Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

**I'm sorry it's been a while, guys: college tied me to the back of the homework train and took off full-speed. If I haven't responded to your reviews, the responses will be at the end of the chapter. Truly, I want to thank you guys for the continual support: it's so exciting for me as a writer, and as a person, to know that you guys enjoy the story and take the time to let me know as much.**

**In appreciation, here's the Turning Point, a nice, long chapter! This is dedicated to my reader and dear friend who just had a birthday recently. He knows who he is.**

**Hoping you all are well!**

**-Expressionista**

* * *

Black button-up, dark pants, tousled hair (but not too tousled), and, of course, his ring. Damon looked himself over in the mirror, satisfied. If he liked what he was seeing, then he was certain that the women paying at the Mystic Falls Bachelor Auction would like what they saw, too, and that was the whole point. The Sheriff, Liz, had asked him to participate, and him being the generous person that he was, he'd agreed.

Although, in all honesty, he'd agreed more out of selfish reasons. Boredom was his enemy, because it was in the silence that thoughts of Katherine's betrayal came back to haunt him. He'd done a good job so far of distracting himself the past couple of days, thanks entirely to alcohol and college sorority girls, but he doubted his housemates would put up much longer with him bringing the party home. Stefan, he didn't care much for upsetting; Mikaela, on the other hand, was someone he preferred not to piss off- too much, at least. Even she had a boiling point.

Through the course of his drunken days, they hadn't spoken more than a handful of words to each other- well, to be more specific, he'd continuously tried to contact Mikaela through her cell phone, but Mikaela hadn't spoken more than a sentence to him at all. That particular sentence had gone along the lines of, "What the hell is going on here, Damon?" when she'd found the parlor packed with half-naked girls, and had been followed with her storming out of the house in a huff. As a matter of fact, that had been the morning after they'd literally slept together. No wonder she'd been upset.

As if sensing that he was thinking about her, Mikaela quietly closed her bedroom door. She'd been leaving the house early in the morning and coming back late at night in the same silent fashion, clearly in an attempt to see him as little as possible, and so far, she'd been succeeding. Damon smirked to himself; her ninja act was no match for his vampire sense of hearing, not while he was marginally sober.

He was standing behind her in a second. "Sneaking out of the house is _so_ high school," he commented. "You do realize that you don't live with your mom anymore, right?" She gasped and whorled around, eyes wide. "Where are you sneaking off to, anyway?"

She quickly composed herself and clenched her jaw. "Nowhere," she said firmly, looking up and down the hall. "Is Stefan home?"

"Nope, St. Stefan is off with his human **sex** **partner,**" he said, placing extra emphasis on the last two words. "You know, one of those things you insist you haven't had?"

She glared at him and shoved past. "As opposed to compelling girls to sleep with me?" she snapped back, making her way to the stairs. "Or filling the house with sorority girls to distract myself?"

"Well, if that's your style, I won't judge..." He trailed off, noticing something was different about her. She didn't wait for him and practically flew down the steps, checking her purse as she walked to make sure she had everything she needed. He kept up with her easily. "You look different."

"Do I?" she said distractedly. She pulled her car keys out of her purse.

"Did you get some action?" he asked, following her to the foyer. She laughed sarcastically. "Of course you didn't. Look, I can't place my finger on it, but _something-_"

She stopped in the foyer and turned around, crossing her arms. After a moment's observation, he was able to clearly see everything that had changed since he'd last seen her. For starters, she wore a green turtleneck with a black skirt and black leggings, and she was wearing the heeled boots that he'd dubbed "the date boots": clearly, she was making an effort to dress up nicer than normal. Secondly, she wore the jasmine perfume he'd grown fond of, but that she insisted on only wearing for special occasions, and a light layer of makeup covered her face. But the main difference, the change that had caught his attention, was her hair.

She looked down at his shirt and sighed an irritated sigh. "You got the buttons all wrong," she muttered, and stepped forward to unbutton them. "Seriously, how hungover do you have to be to not even get dressed properly?"

As she opened his shirt, Damon looked her over with a smirk. Her hair was straight and feather-like, contrary to her customary mane of waves and curls, and she had a set of bangs that hadn't been there a couple of days ago. As he allowed his eyes to travel downwards, he noticed two thick locks of blond hair mixed in with the black, trailing from the bunch she'd tucked behind her ears. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, but quickly diverted her gaze when she saw the look on his face.

"What are you smirking about?" she asked, pushing the first button through the buttonhole.

"You went to a hair salon," he said, smirking even wider when she rolled her eyes. "I didn't take you for being the vain type."

"I'm not," she said immediately, continuing her work. "My hairstylist is a tyrant and insisted on doing my hair for-" She stopped mid-sentence and cleared her throat. "Either way, this isn't permanent. Once I wash my hair, I'll take out the blonde extensions and be back to normal." She finished with the last button and reached up around his shoulders for his collar. Not knowing he planned on doing it, he put his hand on her arm, keeping her hands on his neck. She froze and he heard her heart rate pick up, the only indication that she was as aware of him as he was of her. Her expression remained calm, and for a moment he reconsidered. Maybe it was the alcohol making him bold, but suddenly he was tired of pleasantries. He needed a distraction.

"You know," he said in a low voice, "you really don't need to make excuses. I already know."

She titled her head to the side questioningly. "Know what?"

He ran a hand along her cheek, resting it on her shoulder. "That you want this."

They stood only inches away from each other, their chests a hairsbreadth from touching and their faces so close that he could feel her warm breath on his skin. He'd been in a drunken haze for the past couple of days, but in that moment, everything seemed crystal clear and magnified by seven: her soft hands on the nape of his neck, the smooth skin over her cheeks and the way they turned red as she registered the meaning in his words, her full lips and just how much he was dying to kiss them again...

Just as he was leaning forward, she swallowed and pulled her hands back. "I have to go," she said quietly, turning her head away. Her cell phone started to ring, and remembering back to the night at the tomb, he realized who was calling. Putting two and two together, Mikaela's appearance and her shifting gaze, Damon realized what was going on. She pulled back and adjusted her purse on her shoulder, her hands shaking slightly.

"You have a date," he stated, and much to his disappointment, she didn't indignantly object like she had the last time he'd reached that conclusion. "With the Lockwood brat." At first she looked like she was going to give an explanation, but then her phone rang again, and her cool facade was back in place. She straightened her back, set her jaw, and guarded her expression.

"I'll see you later," she said flatly, and turned around for the front door.

"You do realize you're being desperate, right?" he called out. She stopped in the doorway and looked at him, a hint of surprise in her eyes, along with -strangely enough- hurt. Good: she'd pissed him off, so it might as well go both ways. "I'm just saying, you weren't good enough for him then, and you're not good enough for him now. You're just clamoring for attention, but the fact is, you're not gonna get it. He'll get bored, again, and you'll look like an even bigger idiot than you are."

He could have sworn he saw her lower lip tremble, but it could have easily been his imagination. In a second, however, her gaze seemed to freeze over. She let out a small sigh and leaned her head to the side, observing him. "As opposed to you not being enough for Katherine then, and after 145 years of trying to 'save' her, you're still not enough now?" she said calmly. "Apparently, the dissatisfaction with you was so great, she needed to compel Stefan to feel even minutely fulfilled as a woman." She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and stepped back. "You might want to think twice about calling people desperate, Damon. It's about as bad as the pot calling the kettle black, and makes you seem like a bitter ex-boyfriend." And with that, she closed and locked the door.

He stood in the foyer, frozen, shocked. He should have marched out that door and put her back in her place, reminded her who had the upper hand in the food chain, but he couldn't. Despite how angry he was, he knew better than to scare her off: she was important. She'd just pissed him off, badly, but the worst part was that she was right. She'd been right about Katherine, and she was right about him then. Really, that had to be the only reason he hadn't ripped her throat out right there on the spot.

Chances were that she knew that, too.

* * *

The thing about Mikaela going on dates?

Most of the time, things had a way of not working out as planned.

"I'm sorry about this," Tyler apologized, holding open the door to the Mystic Grill. "I forgot about the whole thing." The restaurant/bar was crowded with people, mainly of the female variety, all gossiping and giggling excitedly with each other. A banner over the entrance had announced that the annual Mystic Falls Bachelor Auction was underway, but if the sighs of disappointment emanating from the crowd were any indication, it had finished not too long before. They'd both decided to go someplace low-key like the Grill, but had arrived at the restaurant to discover that the place was packed due to the charity event.

Mikaela smiled and shook her head. "It's fine," she insisted. "It's actually kinda funny." Lord knew she needed some fun, what with all of the stress she'd been going through with the Katherine business. While Damon had been turning the first floor of the boarding house into his own personal brothel, Mikaela had been vigorously investigating her curse, hoping there would be some sort of spell to help undo it.

The most she'd been able to conclude was that the curse was linked to the spell Emily had cast to make everyone forget Elizabeth, which wasn't very reassuring, considering the spell was linked to the curse, which could only be broken by death, which just happened to be the one thing Mikaela was very bad at doing. It went without saying that she was frustrated, on edge, and open to any and all distractions, including staying over at Elena's house two nights in a row, and agreeing to go on a date with Tyler that night. Although, she had to admit, she hadn't been as reluctant to do the latter as she should have.

They squeezed through the crowd gathered around the stage that had been set up for the activity until they found a booth set off to the side. They both sat down and looked over the turnout, smiling at the craziness. Well, at least Mikaela smiled; Tyler seemed irritated by the whole situation. A familiar face appeared in the sea of women, and Mikaela smiled as she recognized Sydney from the hair salon. Once Sydney caught sight of her, the California-tanned, naturally blonde woman smiled and made her way in their direction. She was taller than most of the women, and very well-endowed, earning the attention of the scattered men and spurring conversations about whether her chest was real. Tyler's eyes widened in surprise as he saw her approach.

"Sydney?" he said, getting to his feet. "What are you doing here?" She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, intentionally smothering him. She was around twenty-five years old and had been his babysitter when she was in high school. Once Tyler had rubbed his cheek off on his sleeve, she turned to Mikaela.

"Well, a bird told me that bachelors were being auctioned off in this small town," she said, "so I figured, since I'm going through a divorce, this was as good a place as any to start searching."

"Didn't you just get divorced two weeks ago?" Tyler pointed out. She raised her brows at him expectantly.

"Your point?" she asked. "I'm not looking for marriage tonight, and I will not be scolded by a teenager." Mikaela snickered and sat down in her chair.

"Whatever," he muttered, not wanting to hear about the mushy details of divorce and female needs. "Either way, the auction's over, so-"

Feedback from the sound system filled the air, cutting him off. After cringing slightly, everyone turned to look at the stage. Mrs. Lockwood stood on the platform, checking her microphone to make sure it was on. Tyler groaned, already having an idea of what to expect. Once she had everyone's attention, she put on her public-speaking smile.

"Once again, I want to thank all of you for generously donating at tonight's event," she began. "Now, I know that we've already auctioned off Mystic Falls' finest, but I'm happy to inform you that we've just come up with two volunteers for you remaining ladies."

Immediately the crowd erupted with cheers and applause. Sydney grinned. "See? I always get what I want." Tyler groaned and Mikaela and Sydney laughed. Anything that bothered Tyler that much had to be fun for them. Mrs. Lockwood smiled and held up a hand to quiet the excitement. Once the noise died down, she cleared her throat and gestured next to her. "It's my pleasure to introduce bachelors 6 and 7."

The sounds of clapping and whistles filled the air as two young men walked up the steps and onto the stage. One of them Mikaela recognized immediately, but the other only seemed vaguely familiar. Benji strode across the platform with the confidence of the 145-year-old vampire that he was, smiling and winking at the women as he walked. He wore a green long-sleeve that brought out his eyes and dark pants, a more dashing outfit than Mikaela was used to seeing him in. He looked over at Mikaela and waved, flashing her a charming smile. She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling back; apparently he liked being the center of attention.

Bachelor number seven, on the other hand, was dressed more casually than his fellow bachelor in a black t-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of sneakers. He laughed at the applause as he walked onto the stage behind Benji, but didn't make any gestures to the crowd. It was clear he was from out of town, if only for his lost expression when he looked through the faces. He wore a cardboard sign with the number 7 printed on it, and when Mrs. Lockwood walked up to him, he handed her an index card.

"Well, let's get to know a little about you two," Mrs Lockwood said, taking Benji's index card and reading it over quickly. "Tell us, Bachelor Number Six, or should I say, Benjamin Night..."

"Actually, Mrs. Lockwood, you can call me Benji," he corrected, winking. "Benjamin sounds much too serious for me." Mrs. Lockwood turned to the crowd with raised eyebrows.

"Looks like we have a smooth-talker here," she mused. Her statement was quickly followed with a chorus of chuckles. "Well, _Benji,_ what do you do for a living?"

"I'm an EMT," he answered, his voice coming out deeper than usual. Mikaela scoffed, and could have sworn she saw the edge of his mouth twitch as if he'd heard her. "It's hard work, but I love what I do."

"My, isn't that impressive!" Mrs. Lockwood gushed. "I suppose that's why you stay in shape, is that right?" Benji smirked and Mikaela resisted the urge to gag at the public flirting. "Now, tell us something a little more personal. Any siblings?"

Mikaela and Benji both stiffened at the same time, but Benji recovered quickly, giving Mrs. Lockwood a saddened look. "I had a sister, but she passed away," he answered. "Heart failure."

_More like a broken heart,_ Mikaela thought, and she could tell that Benji was thinking the same thing.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mrs. Lockwood stammered, suddenly at a loss for words. "That's... such a shame." She bounced back, though, and turned to Bachelor 7. "Now, Bachelor Number Seven, you're not from around here. Why don't you introduce yourself, and tell us what brings you to our town?"

The dark-skinned young man cleared his throat and leaned forward to speak into the microphone. "My name's Jason, and I'm visiting from Richmond with my friend, Sydney," he said, looking through the people for the blonde. "I'm studying computer networking and repairs."

Mikaela looked at Sydney questioningly and she smiled in response. "He lost a game of blackjack," Sydney explained in a hush, grinning. "It was either this or shave his head, and he chose this."

"Really? We have a smart one here, ladies," Mrs. Lockwood said, grinning. Mikaela narrowed her eyes at the Bachelor and turned her head, trying to remember just where she'd seen him before. Neither his name nor his field of study rang any bells. "Now, Jason, it says here that you work at the... Blue Bomb. That doesn't sound like it has anything to do with computers."

Just like that, Mikaela remembered. "Isn't that where you had that dancing gig?" Tyler asked in a hush, leaning across the table. She nodded quickly and focused her attention on the performer. Jason chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"That's a weekend job I took on when I started college," he explained. "It's a club a town over. We have teen nights every weekend."

"And what do you do there? Bar tend?"

He shook his head. "I perform."

"Perform?"

"I do light shows," he stated, smiling modestly. "It's a hobby, but it helps make ends meet, for now."

Apparently not much in the mood for an explanation of what he meant by "light shows", Mrs. Lockwood motioned to the girl with the bowl of ticket stubs and turned to the audience. "Well ladies, as you can see, we have two very interesting bachelors to be raffled off. Now, whoever wins a date with either of these men will meet with him at the bar once I call out their number." She reached into the bowls and fished through the ticket stubs. "And Bachelor Number Six goes to..." She read the ticket quickly and held it up. "Four, sixteen, seventy-three."

To Mikaela's surprise, Sydney shot her hair in the air, a red ticket held in her hand. "That's me," she called out, and Benji turned to face them. Mikaela could have sworn she saw recognition pass through Benji's eyes, but he quickly covered it up and smiled pleasantly at his date. Mikaela looked at Sydney and saw an equally strange look on the woman's face, and was certain that she saw an unspoken message pass between her and Benji. Sydney didn't allow her much time to ponder it, however, because she quickly made her way to Mrs. Lockwood to present her ticket and claim her bachelor.

"How the hell did she get a ticket?" Tyler muttered once his cousin was out of ear shot. "I thought she got here just now."

"Maybe she got one at the entrance," Mikaela said with a shrug. "It beats me."

Mrs. Lockwood pulled out the ticket for the second bachelor and was about to read the number, but was interrupted by a loud, clear yell of, "Nobody touch that man!". Everyone in the restaurant turned to see who had spoken, but they weren't left in the dark for long. Jason cringed as a short, thin girl with similarly colored skin stalked through the people and pulled herself onto the stage. "This bachelor is mine!"

"E-excuse me?" Mrs. Lockwood stuttered, taking a step back. "What are you doing? This is a charity event!"

The young woman was dressed in a jean skirt and a black tank top with black cargo boots. Despite her attire and obnoxiously loud voice, the girl wasn't familiar to anybody, and it was clear that anyone with that loud of a personality would be easily remembered. She raised a brow and looked at Mrs. Lockwood as if she only just noticed that she was there. "'Charity event'?" she repeated doubtfully. "I'm sorry, but my boyfriend isn't a prize to be auctioned off in the name of charity. Excuse us."

She grabbed Jason by his upper arm and dragged him off the stage. He grimaced under the shocked stares, but anyone with the power of observation could tell that, for them, this sort of scandal was commonplace. Within five seconds they disappeared out the front door, and, right on cue, the restaurant filled with laughter and applause. Even Tyler laughed, albeit while shaking his head, before getting up to get drinks.

Her first date in months, and it was exactly what she needed. Mikaela smiled to herself and sat back in her seat, enjoying the warmth that the laughter sent coursing through her. She was glad she'd taken a chance and gone out with Tyler, even if it was only once. She missed having "fun" in her life: everything lately had been dark and dangerous, leaving no room for the things she'd used to like in her life.

Actually, things had been that way ever since Damon had come along. As she watched Tyler come back with two drinks in his hands, she wondered if maybe she would be better off moving out of the boarding house, and trying to live with Damon out of the picture. She didn't need him to break the curse, and maybe, if she didn't see him anymore, she wouldn't have to worry about Elizabeth taking over. She could be moderately normal.

"If anyone asks, it's apple juice," Tyler said, handing her a red cup as he slipped into the seat next to her. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed, smirking when she smelled beer.

"Seriously?" she asked, but chuckled as she took a drink. There was something so mundane, _normal_ about sneaking a beer in with the Sheriff around. They both played it cool and pretended there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, but every time their eyes met, they grinned mischievously, sharing the secret, just like they used to. After a moment of hesitation, Tyler lifted his arm and settled it over her shoulders carefully.

A pair of eyes caught her gaze from across the restaurant, and with a sinking feeling, she saw Damon watching her. Despite the distance, she clearly sensed his irritation, irritation with her for earlier, but mostly with Tyler's display of affection. He'd been about to go over to her and say something when Tyler had butted in. She stayed still for a moment, not sure how to react to Tyler, and much less what to do about Damon's irrational jealousy. She remembered waking up to a parlor filled with sorority girls the morning after she'd spent the night in his bed, however, and reached a decision.

Ignoring the pang of guilt, she leaned closer to Tyler and dropped her head on his shoulder. She felt Tyler's relief, but he hid it well from his face as he drank his beer. When she looked up to see if Damon was still there, she couldn't find his blue eyes anymore, nor could she sense his presence. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to drink, and pretend nothing was wrong. If he could spend 145 years pining after his ex-girlfriend, she was well within her right to try again with her ex-boyfriend.

* * *

Sometimes, even a glass of bourbon at the end of the day wasn't enough to help wind down. Damon stared into the fireplace, finishing off the last of his drink in one gulp.

After seeing Mikaela on her date, he'd tried to make a quick escape. The only problem had been that history teacher, Alaric Saltzman. Liz, the Sheriff, had told him that the teacher had a late wife named Isobel, and putting two and two together with all of Stefan's questions about a woman from Duke, Damon had figured out that he'd killed the man's wife. So, of course, he'd thrown it in the man's face via indirect comments that he'd been the one to kill her, and the human, of course, had tried to stake him as he'd been walking to his car. Damon couldn't blame him for trying to get revenge, even if it had been a stupid move. Needless to say, he'd killed him in a second, and sent Stefan a text message to clean up the mess in the alley. He was pretty sure his brother had thrown a fit when he'd read the one-sentence message- that is, if he'd been able to understand the abbreviations – but he really didn't care. He was too busy wallowing.

It served him right for being so stupid, first spending 140-plus years fighting for Katherine, and then pining after Mikaela like an idiot, hoping she wasn't mad at him, and that maybe she could ease the pain a bit. Instead, it had had the opposite effect: seeing her with the Lockwood kid had been a scarring image.

They _really _didn't make a good couple. She looked stupid next to him, all smiles and giggles and sickening teenage girlishness. He knew better than to believe she was really such a girl: Mikaela was more woman than girl, at least when she was with him. He couldn't fathom why she was trying to fix things with such a pubescent moron.

Then again, none of it really mattered anymore, anyways. Katherine had pretty much dumped him ages ago and never told him about it, Stefan was sleeping with her clone and acting like the happiest vampire on earth with his sorry existence, and Mikaela was dating the snot-nosed pretty boy son of the Lockwoods. Hell, even Caroline was wearing a vervain necklace nowadays, so he didn't even have the option anymore of compelling her for attention.

In his wallowing, Damon heard a car pull in to the driveway, specifically Mikaela's car. It was easy to recognize because it had a soft stutter, and squeaked slightly on bumps. She'd mentioned on their way back from Georgia that she was wondering what was causing it, but didn't think it was too much of a problem. Funny the mundane things he remembered from their conversations. Figuring the night couldn't get much worse, he poured himself another glass and made his way to the window.

It was like looking through the glass and into an alternate universe. Music blared from the car radio, playing some hip-hop song that he didn't care enough to remember its name. She never drove with the music that loud. She parked and turned off the car before climbing out, slamming the door behind her. As he watched her, she walked with a spring in her step, and as she got closer to the house, a smile broke across her face. She stopped in front of her car and held her face between her hands, trying and failing to contain herself. With a silent scream of delight, she spun around in a circle and sighed, looking up at the sky.

He could see in her how he used to feel with Katherine. A sick feeling crept in his stomach, and he was suddenly torn between wishing he could share in her happiness, and wishing he could wipe that stupid smile off her face, even if it meant ripping off her face, period. No, he knew he couldn't do that... She shook her hands and composed herself, and, taking a deep breath, walked into the boarding house. Damon immediately detached himself from the window and moved to the foyer, catching her just as she was closing the door behind her.

"Have fun on your _date_?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice, but her face revealed no alarm. "It was fine," she said indifferently, shrugging as she hung her jacket on the coat rack. She was back to Cold, Ice Queen Mikaela that he'd spoken to before she'd gone out; maybe there really was an alternate universe outside his window. "And yours? I heard Carol got you in the Bachelor Auction."

Ah, so they were going to play the Casual Game, were they?

He waved a hand nonchalantly and leaned against the wall. "Yeah, but you know how it is," he said, rolling his eyes. "If I go out on a date with her and become your old-slash-new boyfriend's new step-father, it might create some awkwardness in our group of friends. And, seeing as it's bros before hoes..."

"You don't have friends, Damon," she reminded him with a sigh. "And the few you _do_ have, you insult away whenever you're pissed off at life."

So much for the Casual Game.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked, more to tease her than to receive an actual answer. "Come on, you know I didn't mean it." She sighed and ran a hand through her ridiculously straight hair, an action that looked strangely... well, sexy for lack of a better word. He took a sip from his drink to steady the hunger as she leaned on her hip, tempting him without knowing it.

"No, you did mean it, Damon," she stated tiredly. "You're bitter about Katherine, and I'm sorry that you're upset I went on a date." She paused, remembering something. "And Tyler isn't my boyfriend. We just went out. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, but it is," he corrected, pushing himself off from the wall and wagging a finger at her. She crossed her arms, a physical barrier to whatever he was about to say. "You and I both know better. He was the first boyfriend, the one who cheated and publicly humiliated you. Going on a date with him is more than casual."

"People can change," she stated firmly, setting her jaw. God, it drove him crazy when she did that, acting like she was much stronger than she believed she was... She always stuck out her chest and balled her fists slightly, trying to make herself look like a bigger person. It was too damn cute. He looked down into his empty glass, and realized the alcohol was finally taking effect.

"But has he?" The question was a rhetoric one, and as he set his glass on a coffee table and looked at her, he could tell he was breaking through her shield and getting to her weaknesses. Her insecurities about her appearance were zero to none, and as a psychic she was confident about her sense of judgment, but it didn't take a genius to catch onto the fact that Tyler Lockwood rested on something of a gray area for her. Her firm expression faltered.

"This is none of your business," she muttered finally, stalking to the staircase. "I'm going to bed."

"It may not be my business, but you know I'm right," he called after her, causing her to freeze in her tracks. "He's only after one thing."

He almost heard the snap as her patience broke. "And what about you, Damon?" she exclaimed, stepping down the two or three steps she'd climbed. "What the hell are you going after with all of this?"

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to protect you," he said in mock seriousness. "It's friendly advice. Then again, I could always just head over to his place, get a bite to eat, and end this whole ordeal once and for all." She bared her teeth and stalked right up to him, stopping only inches away.

"Stop it," she growled, balling her fists. "Stop blaming me for Katherine. I told you she wasn't in the tomb, and I'm sorry that I was right."

He scoffed. "This isn't about Katherine," he said, as if it was the most ridiculous possibility in the world. "This is about you being an idiot."

"The only thing that makes me an idiot is not giving up on you!" she exclaimed exasperatedly. "Seriously, why the hell do you care so much about me and Tyler? It's not like he's done anything to you!"

"I don't care!" he retorted at the same volume.

"So piss off!" she yelled, pushing him square in the chest. "You can't just use me to get Katherine, and then act like the possessive boyfriend whenever you feel like it! You have no right!"

He grabbed her hand and jerked it to the side, away from his chest. She didn't falter at his display of strength; if anything, she glared defiantly up at him, challenging. Damon felt his gums turn sore as his fangs threatened to come out, spurred by the fire in her eyes. The veins around his eyes started to darken, and although he saw her eyes widen ever so slightly, she didn't back down. Good Lord, the girl was his hunger incarnate. Her cheeks were red and her white teeth were bared, menacing, _furious._ He could hear her heart beating as her chest rose and fell heavily, her breath dancing over his skin.

"I hate you," she whispered.

He didn't know who moved forward first.

One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist tightly, Damon held her completely against him as his lips crashed against hers. She molded perfectly against him, arms wrapping around his neck as she responded with the same heated urgency. Lips and teeth grazed against each other as he shoved her against the wall, pinning her there by her hips. She gripped the hair at the base of his neck and pulled him closer, not saying anything, and not needing to.

He pulled back and looked at her, his temptation, the one thing worth remembering in the whole God-forsaken town. Her brown eyes were glazed over and her lips beckoned him, their soft roundness nothing short of perfect. After giving her a questioning look, he took a hold of the hem of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head. She eagerly helped and weaved her arms out, reattaching herself to him once he threw the garment to the side. She was left in a black lace camisole, neck and shoulders completely exposed with only a silver cross hanging from them. Unable to resist, he ran rough kisses up and down her neck, breathing in her cinnamon-like scent and letting his fangs grow their full length. She arced her back to grant him full access, letting out a low moan as he dragged his tongue along the pulse. Without warning, she grabbed his face and lifted him up, pressing her lips against his.

That was when he realized.

Mikaela didn't smell like cinnamon.

As if she'd burned him, he immediately grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away, stepping back to the other side of the foyer. She didn't seem surprised, but she still stumbled from the lack of support and sighed from the loss. She stood hunched over in her disarray, bangs covering her face as she rearranged her shirt. With a flourish she flipped her hair over her shoulder and stood up straight, looking at him with a slow, seductive smile.

"Hello, lover," she greeted, eyes shining an unnatural green. She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, examining him from head to toe. "I must say, time has only made you an even better kisser."

Impossible. All vain changes aside, the girl in front of him, for all purposes, was Mikaela. Same figure, same jet-colored hair, same kiss-bruised lips... But those green eyes, that seductive smile, that look that lacked any hint of innocence... It couldn't be her.

"Elizabeth," he said, hoping he wasn't right. Things never ended well when she decided to make herself known.

She waited a beat and nodded softly. "You know about me," she concluded, approval written in her words. "I thought so. This vessel's been surprisingly influential so far in reference to the curse."

Damon watched her warily as she walked over to the coffee table, pulling off her earrings as she went. It was Mikaela's body, that much he was certain of, but the way that she moved, the deep tone of her voice, the _intentional _use of her natural feminine powers- neither of those were hers. Not to mention that she smelled completely different, and Damon knew about smells. It was weird, uncomfortable, and inconvenient beyond natural laws. He'd thought he'd been kissing Mikaela, only to find out it was her.

It was everything to not kill somebody.

She set the earrings down and reached to the back of her neck to unclasp the silver cross. "In all honesty, I'm not too taken with how much shorter she is than Diane," she said conversationally, looking herself over. "Her father must have passed on the short trait, along with these ridiculous hips, because they definitely didn't come from our side of the family." She paused and met his eyes as she put the necklace down. "You remember, right? How tall I really am?"

There was something about a green-eyed Mikaela asking him if he remembered a time when she was taller. Despite that, he knew that he'd been caught and held up a hand. "About my memory," he began, but she laughed and shook her head, cutting him off.

"It's fine, darling," she assured him, walking in his direction. "I know Emily's spell is still strong, otherwise you'd be searching relentlessly for a way to break my curse." She ran a finger down the side of his face and walked past him.

"Why did you take over Twinkle Toes?" he asked, following her. There was no point in beating around the bush: the last time she'd possessed Mikaela had been when they'd been dancing in the parlor, and she hadn't done anything except try to kiss him. It had to be the first time she was carrying on an actual conversation, so he figured it was worth getting as much information out of her as he could.

Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be much in the answering-questions-mood. She sighed and stretched her arms above her head. "Dear Lord, it's been a while!" she exclaimed. "'Twinkle Toes' has a block up against me, so I don't get to feel any of this anymore." She stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at him. "By the way, why exactly were you two kissing? She's far too young, and you two fight too much."

Deciding to play along, he shrugged a shoulder. "Boredom, needed a distraction," he said indifferently, not letting it show that it meant anything at all. "What's your excuse?"

She shrugged, too, climbing up the stairs. "Her defenses were down, so I took advantage of the opportunity," she admitted. "I missed you, and this is the first time in twenty years that one of my vessels has interacted with you." Realizing something, she held a finger up to her lips, making a shushing sound. "Don't tell her what the trigger is, or I won't get to come out and play anymore."

"'Trigger'?" he repeated, reluctantly climbing up the stairs. There was only one thing up those stairs, and if she was leading him anywhere near it, it wasn't good news. However, he knew that unless he played along to a certain point, he wasn't going to get any information. So, he followed, watching her carefully every step of the way. It didn't help that she couldn't be any more different from Mikaela, and yet, when he couldn't see those green eyes, it was as if he was looking at the teenage psychic.

She shrugged a shoulder and turned around once she reached the top of the stairs. "It's different for every vessel," she answered, waiting for him to catch up. "If I'm not mistaken, her trigger is the same as her mother's." He moved at his natural speed the rest of the way and she smirked, leaning forward to fix his collar. He stayed still, not moving away, but not encouraging her, either. "Has she ever told you that she finds you tempting? Her toes are curling just at the sight of you."

"Not exactly," he said slowly, unsure how to react. Mikaela, guarded, only-just-starting-to-open-up Mikaela, would never have admitted that. She rested her hands on his chest and looked him over, shaking her head.

"Don't act so surprised. If she let you kiss her, it was for a reason," she said reasonably. Raising a brow, she looked him over, biting her lip. "And it sure is still a _very _good reason." Recovering, she cleared her throat. "So, you like this vessel, right?"

Thrown by the direct, albeit strangely worded question, he took a second to respond. "She's..." he trailed off, lost for words. So it _had_ been Mikaela that he'd kissed? She waited for about five seconds before holding a finger to his lips.

"It's fine," she assured him. "I know." With the confidence of a woman much older than the body she inhabited, she pressed her lips- Mikaela's lips- to his, her warm breath dancing over him as she sighed. "Dear God, I missed this."

She was killing him. For weeks, Mikaela had been driving him crazy: she was beautiful, strong, and sensual without trying, and for some reason, she'd stuck around in a way that nobody else had. Elizabeth, the woman inhabiting her body, had apparently been with him when he was a human, and the way that she was slowly pressing her body against his assured him that she'd learned how to wrap him around her finger. The center of his dreams with her had gone in such a fashion: Mikaela going after him in a way that the real Mikaela, with all of her virtues, simply couldn't.

Her lips were soft and warm, but more than anything, certain as they brushed over his, pulling him closer. He couldn't help it: he closed his eyes and moved up so that he stood on the second floor landing, hovering over her. As long as she didn't speak and he didn't see those green eyes, he could pretend she was Mikaela, possibly the only person who could make him forget about Katherine, even if only for a little while.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, running her tongue along his bottom lip in invitation and pressing herself completely against him. Knowing she'd led him to that specific part of the boarding house on purpose, he lifted her up around her waist and sped to Mikaela's room, kicking the door open. She let him go and backed up to the bed, holding out her arms. For a moment, he hesitated: Would Mikaela have wanted it? But the woman was pulling up her shirt, slowly, inch by inch, and his mind was made for him.

With a sense of finality, he shut the door and stalked forward into the dark room.

* * *

Elena lied awake in bed, fidgeting with the bedsheets as she failed to fall asleep. She'd found out that Damon had killed her birth mother, that her birth mother was a vampire who was compelling humans to tell her to stay away, and at the Bachelor Auction, she'd seen Mikaela and Tyler on a date. Nothing was making sense anymore, and the pressing guilt and questions were making sleep an elusive thing to find. With a sigh, she reached over to her bedside cabinet and grabbed her cellphone to compose a text message. She thought over her words for a moment before typing.

_Bonnie:_

_URGENT. Kay and Tyler were on a d8 2day, n I think Damon likes her. Is it the spell?_

_XOXO,_

_Elena_

With that, she lowered the volume on her phone and rolled onto her side. There was nothing else she could do, except hope that nothing went too wrong before Bonnie answered her.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Again, thank you guys so much for reading, you all have no idea how much it means to me. I'm already at work on the next chapter, message me or review your opinions to let me know how I'm doing, and what you think of the turn the story's taking!**

* * *

**Review Responses:**

**Marina 164509:** Thanks :D!

**Pucoan:** It was definitely one of my favorite chapters to write, I'm glad you liked their "moments" ^_^!

**Aly Goode**: Yeah, that part of the series killed me in the Damon department- it hurts enough getting dumped, I can't imagine after 145 years finding out that you didn't matter :/ I'm glad you liked the ending :)!

**JellyBear7:** Ha ha yup, it was one of the longest chapters xD And yup, they'll go through their ups and downs, but anything can happen in love...

**Dabeed:** Ha ha you already got your reader response xD

**xXxCastielxXx**: I'm a sucker for sad Damon, he kills me, too ;( Thanks about the ending, I was kinda worried, but so far, so good, thanks :D!

**Kelly-Starfly:** I actually considered making that happen (the tomb vampire thing)... I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**AudreyDarke96:** I think I'd feel guilty if any of my readers cried LOL But at the same time, I'm touched that you liked it! Thanks for the support! I've been reading your reviews for a couple of chapters, and I greatly appreciate your input!

**FaithDeanLove:** Ah, a new reader! To answer your question, yes, Elena was trying to tell Damon about the spell that she cast with Bonnie to help out in Mikaela's love life, and she wanted to tell him to make sure he wasn't affected (it would affect Mikaela and those she had a connection with). I agree, depressed Damon can only be sooooo fun to read for soooo many chapters lol... And no, I don't plan to make Damon associate Mikaela with Elizabeth; he doesn't even remember her. Thanks for your input :D!

**aletheswan:** Ha ha I understand, I don't always like to give details, either. I'm glad you liked it ^_^

**dazedbydamon:** Anonymous reviewer! I'm so glad you like the story ^_^ I wish you had an account with the site, that way you'd be able to get the e-mail notification when I update! Ha ha I got your review while I was working on the chapter and it made me smile xD

**rebel-without-pause:** Sorry! I know, it's wrong to leave a sort of cliffhanger for so long! My sincerest of apologies!

**TinyDancer365:** Thanks so much! I'll be sure to keep working ^_^

**Nymartian:** I'm glad, thank you :)!

**TeamPaul15:** Ha ha I just wanted to show a different side of her, I'm glad you like , too ^_^!

**purpleheeead:** Thank you! Yup, that's the theory so far- bye-bye Katherine, bye-bye curse!


	28. Chivalry is Dead, So is the Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys, Halloween's almost coming up! October's one of my favorite months ^_^! Anyways, thanks soooo much for the feedback on the last chapter! Ha ha your reviews made me smile and laugh, so this chapter is for you guys! (Nice and long, like you guys love the chapters to be)**  
**I would love to know what you guys think about this chapter. It's hard to know how I'm doing when it's just my opinion here, and I love to have the insight from you guys, the ones who actually read the story, yknow?**  
**Well, I hope y'all enjoy!**

* * *

As sunlight fell upon her bed far too early in the morning, Mikaela cursed the sun and every person behind the decision to make high school start at 8 AM.

Knowing that she didn't have much choice in the matter, she stretched her sore muscles and collapsed back on the bed, sighing. She'd already missed enough school with the tomb business, not to mention the being-kidnapped-by-a-vampire business, and it was time to go back to class and back on track if she had any plans of graduating high school and getting the hell out of the vampire-infested town. She rested a hand on her forehead, and was confused when she found bangs there.

Since when had she had bangs?

She looked down at herself and realized she only wore a black bra and a skirt with leggings. Sluggishly she started to remember her date with Tyler, but not how she'd gone to bed in such a disarray. Her memory was failing her, and she couldn't understand why the hell she would have taken the risk of sleeping half naked in the same house as Damon. Heaving a sigh, she reached over to her bedside cabinet and checked the time. She was already late, so she decided to skip the shower and just get ready.

She grabbed her clothes (a pair of black jeans and a light blue long-sleeve) and made her way to the bathroom, a throw blanket wrapped around her just in case Damon was up and about. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but she was surprised by how sensitive her skin felt. She felt as if she'd spent the day at the beach and gotten scraped everywhere by the sand, and her head felt as if it were filled with water. Her neck hurt, she guessed from sleeping at an uncomfortable angle, and a mild pounding around the back of her ears forewarned her of an impending headache.

As she brushed her teeth, she took advantage of the mirror and started to evaluate her appearance. Her bangs were bent as if she'd slept on them, her eyeliner had formed dark bags under her eyes, and to both her surprise and confusion, she had a small bruise on her shoulder. She looked a mess, and with a tired sigh, she rinsed out her mouth, washed her face, and pulled a blow dryer out from under the sink to fix her bangs.

When she was finished, she walked back to her room, not daring look at the bed that needed to be tended to. Grabbing her boots from the closet and a pair of socks, she sat on the edge of the bed and started to pull them on, humming absentmindedly as she did so.

"I thought that you would hate that song, after what happened with Lexi's ex-boyfriend."

Mikaela hardly even jumped as Damon's voice drifted from the bed behind her. It was becoming a habit of his to sneak up on her, and while she didn't want to give him any pleasure for his mischief, he was right: she'd been unknowingly singing Elvis's "Are You Lonesome Tonight?". Raising a brow, she glanced over her shoulder at him before returning to her task. Her heart rate picked up a little despite herself. Of course he couldn't settle with simply invading her bed: he had to do it shirtless. Damn attraction and all the vampires brought along with it.

"I didn't hear you come in," she commented, dragging down the zipper on one boot. She knew she was supposed to be mad at him for something, but she couldn't seem to remember what it was, nor could she find the will power to act more than mildly disinterested in him.

"I haven't left," he stated calmly. She stopped and looked at him, surprised by how little humor there was in what he said.

"... What do you mean by that?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Exactly what I said," he answered.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Damon. What do you-?" He didn't smile smugly like he normally did after making a sexual innuendo, and she felt a chill run down her skin. She considered the possibility, and the circumstances under which it would have happened, and the color drained out of her face. Suddenly the memories started to slip back: her fight with Damon, the date with Tyler, the encounter with Damon afterward, her kiss with-

He must have noticed when that last memory reached her, because just as she was about to jump off the bed, he grabbed her arm and held her still. She fought against him, her heart racing and her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as he kept a firm grip on her arms. "Let me go!" she exclaimed.

"Whether you want to or not, we need to talk about this," he said, struggling to keep her in place.

"There's nothing to talk about!" she retorted, hitting his hand with the boot. He yelped and she seized the opportunity to shoot to her feet. She hadn't even completely stood up when he snapped an arm around her waist, this time pulling her back to lay down. The boot went flying in the air as she thrashed against him, blindly throwing punches and kicking her feet. He groaned and straddled her waist, pinning her down by her shoulders.

"Can you just calm down for a second?" he yelled exasperatedly. She stopped fighting and glared at him with unrestrained loathing, her cheeks flushed red and her chest heaving.

"What the hell is there to talk about?" she snapped. "It was a mistake. I was emotional, you're a mess, and it was just something that happened."

To her surprise, he frowned in confusion. "So... you _did_ kiss me?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Wasn't that what you meant?" she asked, all of a sudden feeling very lost. "... What are you talking about?"

"... I _was_ going to tell you about something that happened last night," he said, releasing her shoulders, but not getting up from his position. "With Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth?" she repeated doubtfully. "What would Elizabeth have done with-"

A memory of her and Benji talking in Damon's car reached her then. _"I'm just saying, __it's happened every time one of you girls runs into him: interest leads to attraction and attraction leads to sex."_

She choked on her words. She'd been half-naked in her bed, her body was sore, and the last thing she remembered was kissing him in a mutual moment of weakness. Before she could stop it, tears filled her eyes and horror covered her face. The pieces were falling into place, and her hands started to shake as it dawned on her. "Oh God, please tell me you didn't," she whispered, the unfamiliar urge to cry in self pity gripping her with an iron vice. "Please, please-!"

"No, no, we didn't!" he said quickly, holding up his hands. "We almost did, but-!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing!" he insisted. She turned her face and groaned as pain shot through her head. He grimaced. "Yeah, sorry about that. That's... kinda my fault."

"How's my headache your fault?" she muttered, not meeting his eyes. She was relieved they hadn't had sex, but it didn't mean she was happy with the situation.

"I had to knock you out to stop your great-great-great-great grandmother from giving away your virtue," he explained. She squeezed her eyes shut and cursed Elizabeth to kingdom come.

"Is there anything else?" she asked reluctantly. "You know, something I might want to know before I attempt to kill myself?"

"It's not that big of a deal," he reasoned. "I didn't see anything I haven't already seen before."

"You really aren't helping."

He sighed exasperatedly. "I don't know what to tell you, Mikaela," he said, dropping his hands onto his legs in defeat. "Your ancestor possessed you when you kissed me, and tried to take it further. Respecting the fact that you claim you're still a virgin, I knocked you out and decided to stay the night to make sure she didn't try to rape me in my sleep. I did the best I could with the circumstances I was given."

"You're such a gentleman," she spat sarcastically. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Well, you're no princess yourself," he shot back. When she glared at him, he didn't falter. "And anyways, that doesn't change the fact of the matter: you kissed me. We need to talk."

"Can you _please_ get the hell off of me?" she exclaimed, lifting herself up and shoving him in the chest. "If you want to talk to me, talk like a civilized person, and not like some pervert forcing himself-" He pushed her back by her shoulders again, pinning her down. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but before she could, he kissed her.

Suddenly she forgot why she'd been fighting with him only moments before. The words froze in her throat and her lips molded to his, not inviting him in, but not pushing him away, either. He pulled back an inch and released her shoulders, gauging her reaction. There was a silent question in the air, but even she didn't know how to answer it. Her heart was beating so fast it seemed to hum, and as she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, it shook. He held himself up on one elbow, his face close enough that she could feel his breathing and count every eyelash around those icy blue eyes. Something about him, despite all that had transpired between them, made their closeness feel perfect, _right. _She slid her hand from his cheek to the nape of his neck and pulled him down, closing her eyes at the same time that she saw his own flutter closed and a smile spread across-

"Mikaela! Can you give me a ride to school?" Damon all but flew to the closet, hiding himself between the layers of clothing as his younger brother appeared in the doorway. Mikaela stayed frozen in shock, staring up at nothing as she tried to recover. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and any casual observer would have concluded that she looked like she'd just had a bad scare. Stefan gave her a concerned look. "Are you okay?" he asked. Composing herself, she cleared her throat and sat up, nodding.

"Yeah, I was just... thinking," she said, failing to stop her voice from shaking slightly. She cleared her throat again and stood up. "I had a weird dream last night. Did Damon kill somebody?"

"Yeah, Alaric, the history teacher," Stefan answered, not bothering to hide his mild suspicion. "But he's fine."

"So Damon didn't kill him?" Mikaela asked. She pulled on her boots in record timing and straightened out her clothes that had been twisted in the struggle. She felt strangely like a child who had almost been caught stealing sweets from the pantry as she grabbed her backpack off the floor and followed Stefan out, such a mundane thing to do when it seemed that everything of importance was outside of the high school campus.

* * *

Draw III had always been her favorite class, and for a reason: it relaxed her. The class started out pleasantly enough. The teacher calmly accepted her excuse of being out of town for a photography convention and filled her in on the week's assignment before urging her to join in with the other students. She sat in an empty seat and got to work, lightly outlining the general idea of her picture over the large sheet of paper.

And then she sensed him enter the classroom.

Suddenly a waterfall of guilt came crashing down on her, and she was paralyzed. With all of the madness with Damon the night before, she hadn't thought about Tyler for more than a second, and he had definitely been the last person on her mind that morning when Damon had-

She stopped that train of thought and forced herself to continue working on her drawing. Feeling guilty wasn't going to help her out of the situation: it was a useless emotion. She and Tyler technically weren't dating, and he wouldn't have to know.

"Hey."

And yet that single-worded greeting made her want to bury herself into the deepest pit of hell and hide from his unknowing eyes.

"Hey," she responded tightly, pretending to stay focused on the paper. He dropped into the seat next to her and pulled out his sketch pad, immediately getting to work. She let out a sigh of relief when he didn't say anything else after a minute: she wasn't sure how much conversation she could handle without having a nervous breakdown. It wasn't like he could look at her and know what happened that morning- at least, not in the way that she could look at other people and know- but guilt had a way of making a person paranoid.

Guilt... She groaned and ran a hand through her hair. What the hell was wrong with her, kissing _Damon_, of all people? The night before, it had just happened: in the heat of the moment, somehow she'd found herself with arms and (shamefully) tongue tangled with his, uncaring and unknowing if there was anyone else in the house to witness the event. They'd pulled apart for a moment, and then everything had gone black. It was like a higher power punishing her for kissing him after having a perfect date with another guy less than an hour before.

She should have known better! She wasn't the kind of girl to just go around kissing older men. She dropped her head into her hands and took a deep breath, trying to gather herself. She needed to get a grip: it was a mistake, everyone made them. Lord knew Caroline and Bonnie had made their share of mistakes with the opposite sex.

Feeling her temperature spike, she unraveled her scarf from around her shoulders and dropped it onto her lap. She bent forward to draw, but her hair fell across the paper and she was forced to pull it up into a ponytail. Just as she was cleaning up the outline with her eraser, Tyler spoke.

"So, how are you doin'?" he asked.

_Absolutely fine. Going out with you and then making out with my housemate, who just happens to be a century-and-a-half-old vampire who the ghost of my ancestor is dead set on marrying. What about you? How's the betrayal treating you?_

"Fine," she answered instead. As she met his eyes, an undeniable pang of guilt shot through her, and she immediately had to look away. He was wearing his stupid letter jacket, similar to the one he'd used to lend her when she was cold. He lifted a corner of his mouth in a half-smile which she managed to somehow return. "You?"

"Still embarrassed that Mom busted us for drinking," he admitted. At that she couldn't stop herself from letting out a genuine smile.

"We were kinda in plain sight," she reasoned, and shrugged. "It happens."

He shrugged, too, and frowned. She noticed his eyes focused on her shoulder, and when she gave him a questioning look, his jaw tightened. "Is that...?" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Wow. Seriously, Mikaela?"

"What?" she asked, genuinely confused. She looked down at her shoulder, and still didn't understand. When she pulled her head back slightly, however, she saw it. Horror dropped into her stomach like ice, and she quickly pulled her hair out of its ponytail to cover her shoulders. Tyler was still shaking his head, brows raised and a sardonic smile on his face, but she sensed the disappointment he was masking. "I swear, it's not what it-"

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "We're nothing, remember?"

About five minutes of uncomfortable silence passed before she caved and excused herself from the classroom. Instead of going to the nurse's office like she'd planned, she went straight for the parking lot and got into her car. After sending a message to Stefan to let him know that she'd left, she pulled out of her parking space and drove onto the main road, going to the one place she could think straight.

* * *

Even if he'd already seen her there on one occasion, Damon was both surprised and pleased to see the blonde woman sitting on a bar stool at the Grill, a white lab coat hanging over her shoulders and a glass of black label whiskey on the rocks held in her hands. She hardly gave Damon a side glance as he slipped into the seat next to her and ordered his usual bourbon.

"Damon," she greeted, her eyes focused on the drink.

"Doctor," he countered, giving her a knowing smile. "Drinking on the job?"

"Left early," she answered flatly, draining the glass. "Small town medicine takes it out of me." With a sigh, she dropped it onto the napkin and tapped the bar twice, signaling to the bartender that she wanted another. "Why are you interested? It's not like the field of medicine is of any use to you or your brother."

"True," he reasoned. "But I think your daughter would like to know if you're setting up roots in town."

She snorted and held a hand to her forehead. "Yeah? That's what you think?" she said, chuckling throatily. "It's my first day on the job, and look where I am. Mikaela doesn't need to see me like this."

At that moment, Damon actually took a good look at the doctor. Her normally perfectly poised back was slumped forward, leaning on her elbows set on the bar. While her hair was always in a disarray of tight blonde curls, at that moment they were pulled into a sloppy bun with several curls hanging limply around her face, all life gone from them. She seemed paler than normal, and unless he was imagining it, her eyes looked more gray than blue. The only thing about her appearance that seemed to be in the usual well-kept fashion that she kept herself had to be her perfectly ironed lab coat and her sparkling wedding ring. In general, she looked like he'd been feeling for the past couple of days since opening the tomb. He looked up at the clock hanging on the wall that read two thirty.

"She'll be heading to the boarding house soon. You're in the clear for maybe two more hours," he informed her. She gave him a confused look at the sympathy, but nodded as the bartender brought them their drinks.

"Then let's make them count," she decided, raising her glass to him.

"To making the hours count," he agreed, clinking his glass to hers before taking a drink.

After about two minutes of silence, Damon figured there was no point in stalling. "I spoke to Elizabeth last night," he announced, sitting back in his seat. Diane snorted again, and smirked.

"'Spoke'?" she repeated doubtfully. Damon felt like he'd been caught. "Damon, I had Elizabeth in my body for nineteen years, and the one time she possessed me with you around, the last thing she did was 'speak'."

That took him by surprise. "We've met before?" he asked, not bothering to hide his shock. She contemplated her answer before responding.

"Yes, and no," she said, swirling the ice cubes around her glass. "Yes, as in you've seen me physically, and no, in that we really didn't say anything to each other when I was in control of my body."

"I don't remember," he stated bluntly. "And I'm not sure I follow." She smirked.

"You wouldn't," she assured him. "It was back when I was still studying at Dartmouth. I ran into you at a party in Boston and went all Buffy the Vampire Slayer on you in the alley." That jogged his memory. He remembered being at some party (although he didn't remember exactly where), and being ambushed by a tall woman with long red hair and green eyes- or were they blue? She'd tried to stake him and, obviously, had failed. He cocked his head to the side and looked at her questioningly as he remembered everything else that had happened in the night.

"You had red hair," he said slowly. She shook her head.

"Wig," she informed him. "I was a member of the drama club, and they let me borrow it."

"I killed you," he pressed. She shrugged.

"I came back."

"... _After _I slept with you."

At that, she grinned and shook her head. "No, after you slept with _Elizabeth_," she corrected, holding up a hand. "I don't remember anything, and I'd rather keep it that way. In my opinion, it didn't even happen to my body," she said before he could elaborate. "Elizabeth is separate."

Damon signaled the bartender for another drink as the awkwardness set in. He'd slept with Diane, and pretty much had a crush-slash-physical attraction to her daughter, who he'd almost slept with the night before. Some higher power in the universe was definitely making sure his karma caught up with him. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not tell my daughter about that particular incident."

"Agreed," he said enthusiastically. She snickered and shook her head.

"So, changing the subject, what exactly did you and Elizabeth _speak_ about?" she asked, smirking. He sighed, having a feeling that she'd never let him live that down.

"She said that Mikaela has a block up against her," he began, going over all that the woman had said the night before. "It seems like it's getting on her nerves."

Diane nodded, absorbing the information. "When the curse was in me, she could see and hear everything that I could," she explained, frowning at the memory. "To my relief, it meant that the possessions were kept to a minimum. The problem was that every time I tried to break the curse or get an abortion, she would send a signal to Benji and he would interfere."

"Abortion?" he repeated. She nodded.

"I didn't want to pass the curse on to anyone else, so I got two abortions in college until Mikaela," she explained. "Benji watched me like a hawk for those nine months. Thanks to the curse and Elizabeth's need to ensure that there is a descendant, we're more fertile than most women, so there's no avoiding pregnancy with sex."

"The horror," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Pregnancy is such a bitch these days, but sex is _soooo_ good." To his surprise, she actually chuckled at the joke.

"Anyways, to get back on topic," she said pointedly, tapping the bar to get his attention, "it's great that Mikaela has her blocked. That means that she can fight her, and we can find another way to break the curse."

"'Another way'?" he asked. She gasped, apparently having said something she wasn't supposed to say. "You know a way to break the curse?"

Defeated, Diane sighed. She looked so young and so fragile, and it was somewhat unnerving to ask questions and not have them deflected, as they always were. "There's a possible way," she began carefully. "The curse is bound to the spell cast to make everyone forget who Elizabeth is. In other words, when one is broken, the other one breaks, too. The spell was cast with Emily's talisman and bound with Katherine's blood, and the curse was bound with Knight blood can only be broken with 'death'. Seeing as we don't have the talisman anymore, the only other option is 'death', and taking into consideration that Mikaela doesn't die easily..."

"Katherine would have to die?" Damon concluded, feeling something strange happen in his chest at the realization. It was as if a stake was poking at his heart, threatening to stab through if Diane answered what he was dreading. "That's why you all wanted to get in the tomb?"

Diane rolled her eyes and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Mikaela wasn't going to let us," she stated, holding up a hand, "so don't start dredging up your trust issues. She's on your side for God knows what reasons." The stake pulled out of his chest. He'd been right to trust her all along. He felt as if he'd jumped out of the way of a speeding bus, just on time. "But yes, that was the general idea. Kill the bitch."

Absorbing the new information, Damon nodded. "Go ahead," he muttered bitterly. "I could care less. At least somebody would benefit from something she did, even if it's to die."

Diane raised a brow and shook her head. "Love is a wretched thing," she said, running a finger along the rim of her glass. "Runs so close with hatred. It's no surprise you're drowning your problems."

"Elizabeth also mentioned a trigger," he said, pulling away from the four-letter topic. Diane nodded, indicating she knew what he was talking about. "Apparently you and Mikaela have the same trigger. What is it?"

"That isn't something you ask a Knight woman, Damon Salvatore," she said with mock condescension. The joking left her face and she sighed. "Once you know her trigger, you can pretty much control when Elizabeth comes out to play and when she stays inside sleeping. It can leave us pretty vulnerable, especially when it's easily accessible."

"What do you mean?" he pressed. "How could it make her vulnerable?" Diane closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"My mother's trigger was the sound of the saxophone playing," she finally answered, albeit reluctantly, "and my father loved jazz music. She never knew when she'd lose herself to Elizabeth, and she didn't dare tell my father about the curse for fear that he'd leave her. That's what I mean about leaving us vulnerable." She paused and looked down at the melting ice cubes in her glass. "Mikaela's trigger is more about force of will, something she has no problem with."

Apparently tired of serious talk, she waved the bartender over. "Gimme two shots," she called, and judging by the way he didn't ask any questions, it was clear that he already knew her tastes. Within seconds he'd served two shots of tequila, one in front of Diane and the other in front of her companion. She picked up the small glass and held it up, waiting for Damon.

"But what's the trigger?" he insisted, taking the glass between his fingers. She didn't say anything, and her expression didn't falter, but he could have sworn he saw a spark pass through her eyes as she clinked her glass with his.

"To force of will," she said quietly, and downed the shot. It took him a moment, but as he took the shot as well and set it down for the bartender to collect, it clicked in his head: the only connection between all of the possessions. He looked at Diane questioningly and she nodded, knowing he'd figured it out.

"Be careful what you do with it," she warned, referring to the answer. "While I don't approve of her choice in men, Mikaela's still my daughter, and I expect you to not take advantage." Damon had a feeling she was referring to more than just the trigger, but decided against asking for her to clarify. Even drunk, the woman scared him more than almost anyone in town.

Several hours later, the sun had set and the drinks had continued to flow. At first it had been strange for Damon to see the doctor drunk, but it hadn't taken much alcohol for him to see that, under the cold, indifferent exterior he'd always encountered, she was the one who'd given Mikaela the fire that she wore like a second skin. She laughed with a smile that reached her eyes, she cursed like a sailor and didn't care about any disapproving glares, and didn't show any mercy when the teasing banter ensued.

As six o'clock rolled around, she pulled out the pins holding her hair up and shook her curls free, moaning from relief. "Good LORD, I hate hospital policy," she muttered, dropping the pins onto the bar. Suddenly she seemed to notice she was still wearing her white lab coat. Without further ado she jumped off of the bar stool and started to pull it off, only to discover that there was a force of nature not in her favor: gravity. She swayed and almost stumbled to the floor, but Damon caught her at inhuman speed, stopping her fall.

"Easy there!" he exclaimed, supporting most of her weight as she tried to regain her footing.

She broke into a fit of giggles and held onto his arm around her waist. "You're such a gentleman!" she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. "It's weird."

Damon paused, remembering Mikaela saying the same thing that morning. The circumstances had been different, and her tone had been much less honest, but... With a sigh, he helped her onto her seat. "Come on doctor, I think you've had enough," he said, and held out his hand. "Your keys?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him her keys. "Buzz kill," she muttered as he gave the keys to the bartender. "You should know what it feels like."

"What what feels like?" he asked absently, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket. He himself had only had a couple of drinks, but he was having trouble making his thumb touch the correct buttons to make the phone call. She covered the phone screen with her hand, drawing his attention back to her. The color was back in her cheeks, and her eyes were bright blue again.

Then, there was the fact that there were tears covering the normally calculating eyes.

"To miss someone so much it feels like your chest is caving in," she whispered. "To hurt so much, sometimes you want to _die_." Her eyes implored him to understand, and her thin hands gripped his tightly. Her lower lip trembled, and right before his eyes, he saw the woman break. She dropped her head against his chest in defeat and started to shake, the sobs breaking through her. In a daze, Damon lifted the phone to his ear and called number four on his speed dial. As the door to the Grill opened, he found the call was in vain and hung up.

Mikaela's eyes found him the moment she walked in, and with a tight jaw, she took in the scene before her. She looked over her very intoxicated, very emotional mother, and he saw the cold facade come into place. Her back straightened, her shoulders rolled back, and with a purpose, she made her way to the bar. Many of the patrons were watching the three and whispering behind hands to each other, waiting with anticipation to see what would happen next: would Mikaela slap him, scold her mother, yell at them both? Even Damon found himself braced for what the girl would do. She went up to him and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"What's today's date?" she asked quietly. Surprised by the question, he checked his phone and showed it to her. She closed her eyes for a moment once she saw it, almost as if she were in pain, and took a deep breath before approaching her mother.

"Mom?" she said quietly, placing her hand on her mother's shoulder. The woman immediately sat up, looking at her daughter in confusion. Tears had left tracks all along her cheeks, but once she saw her, they stopped.

"Mikaela?" she asked, for a moment sounding completely sober. "What are you doing here?"

"I come here every Friday," she reminded her, the statement holding a meaning that Damon didn't understand, but that Diane did. The energy seemed to leave the woman, and she slumped her shoulders, lowering her face. "Mom, it's okay. I know today's hard."

"It's not," Diane muttered, but didn't stop Mikaela as she gathered the woman's lab coat and personal belongings. "Nothing's 'okay'. Look at me."

"You look fine," she assured her quietly, and started to help her down from the bar stool. "Let's go home." When her dead weight collapsed on her, Damon immediately jumped in to help, draping her arm over his shoulders and pulling her away from Mikaela. She gave him a grateful look and walked ahead of them to hold open the door.

The three of them managed to get into Mikaela's car, Damon lying the doctor across the back seat with a bucket and Mikaela sitting with her to keep her steady. Damon drove them as quickly as possible to their house, earning himself several insults from the blonde woman about his "lousy driving skills". Once he parked the car in the driveway, he hurried to help the woman out of the back seat.

Luckily, the bucket was empty, and as the woman's boots made contact with the concrete, she had marginally more control of her movements. Mikaela held her mother around her waist and led her to the front door, pulling her keys out of her pocket. Damon followed, but once the two women crossed the threshold, all he could do was stand outside on the porch and wait.

Well, wait and listen.

He heard Mikaela lead her to the guest bedroom on the first floor (just to avoid the stairs, as she explained to the woman) and dropped her onto the bed. Diane didn't fight the girl, but went on and on mumbling apologies and explanations for why she was such a mess. Mikaela didn't say anything, but he heard the rustling of clothing and the grunts of effort as she changed her mother out of her clothes and pulled off her boots. Once the woman was stripped down only to clothes she'd be comfortable sleeping in, Mikaela made a quick run to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and what Damon assumed was a bottle of painkillers.

"Here's some aspirin," she told her quietly. "I'm leaving it here on the cabinet, okay?"

There was a brief silence before a short scuffle. Mikaela jumped onto the bed and the action was quickly followed with the sound of the doctor vomiting into the empty bucket. The teenager whispered reassuringly to the woman, telling her that everything was alright and that she'd be better soon. Once she was finished, she collapsed onto the bed, and Mikaela hurried to the bathroom. After running some water, she returned to the room.

"It's okay, Mom," she repeated. Damon could almost see her cleaning off the woman's face, a tenderness in her eyes that she'd looked at him with the night she'd stayed in his room. Her voice was so gentle, so caring, and he felt a strange longing for her to speak to him in such a way. He shook his head, wanting to punch himself for being an idiot: he didn't need her pity.

"It would have been eighteen years," Diane whispered, her voice trailing off as sleep consumed her. Mikaela didn't say anything for a moment, and he heard her get up before giving the woman a soft kiss.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "... Happy Anniversary, Mom."

A minute later she was standing on the porch with him, arms crossed as she leaned against the railing. "What were you doing, drinking with my mom?" she asked, keeping her voice down as if it would wake her up. There was no accusatory tone in her voice: she simply wanted to know. Relieved that she didn't seem to be mad at him, Damon shrugged.

"I went for a drink, and she just happened to be there," he answered honestly. She nodded, accepting his answer. "Does she do that alot?"

She shook her head sadly. "Not anymore. Now it's just on important days," she answered. "You know, anniversaries and birthdays. She grieves the situation with my dad in her own way."

She didn't say anything else, and he didn't press the subject. In the Grill, he couldn't help but feel that she'd gone through that situation on more than one occasion, and as he'd watched her pull up the cold front against the world, he'd realized that in the Grill was one of the places that proud, confident exterior had been born. He imagined the other places had been in the school, at stores, and any other Founding Families event where people would stare at the girl whose father was in a coma and whose mother was a drunk.

He took advantage of her silence and observed her for a moment. She was too young to hold that much pressure, and yet she did, without complaining. She was dressed simply in black jeans and a blue long-sleeve, but even dressed down and wearing her every day black boots, she was beautiful. Her usual mane of hair was still straight, and if her pushing her bangs to the side every five seconds was any indication, she wasn't used to them yet. She reached up to fiddle with her silver cross, only to find that it wasn't there. With a sigh, she settled her hands onto the railing.

Remembering something, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "Here," he said, stepping forward. She narrowed her eyes at him, and then noticed what he had in his hands. "Elizabeth took it off last night." Not saying a word, she twisted her hair and lifted it off her shoulders, turning around so that her back was to him. Accepting the invitation, he reached around her and clasped her silver cross, allowing it to fall to its rightful place around her neck.

"Thank you," she said, smiling with relief. "I couldn't remember taking it off."

He told himself to step back, but he couldn't. She dropped her hair and was about to turn around when he rested his hands on her shoulders. She froze in place, and electricity filled the air between them. Like an alarm, he heard her heart rate pick up and her breathing hitch. She didn't move away, and unable to resist, he brushed her hair back and laid a kiss against her neck. She swallowed loudly and closed her eyes, leaning her head back unconsciously.

When she didn't say anything, he continued, running soft kisses up her neck until he reached her ear, where he let out a soft breath. She shivered, and in the moonlight, he saw goosebumps run along her skin. Looking down at her, he saw the light catch the shiny, scarred marks on her neck, from the first time they'd met. It seemed so long ago, the night he'd attacked the girl with the dark eyes and raspy voice who'd called herself Caroline.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands were braced against the railing, and a slight twitch in her elbows told him she was trying to hide that they were shaking. He ran his hands down her arms and covered her hands with his.

"I don't know," he answered, whispering the words into her hair. "Do you?"

"This is wrong," she stated, shaking her head. "That's what this is."

"Says who?"

"Anybody!" she exclaimed. "Elena, Stefan, Caroline-"

"Then why did you kiss me last night?"

The elephant in the room. She opened her mouth to answer, but no words came out. Damon gave her ten seconds before releasing one of her hands and cupping her cheek, turning her face to him. Her eyes met his, and without saying a word, he closed the distance between them in a gentle kiss. She groaned and turned around a moment later, bracing her hands against his chest and pushing him back.

"I can't," she stated more firmly. Damon waited for an explanation, and then a dark spot on her shoulder caught his attention. She noticed where he was looking and frowned, glaring at him. "It wasn't enough to take advantage of the fact that Elizabeth possessed me, you had to leave evidence?"

He couldn't even remember leaving the mark on her skin, and it was everything to not start laughing. Her serious expression was the most sobering thing on the face of the earth, however, and he quickly stopped himself. "I'm sorry. I swear, I don't re-"

"Oh save it," she snapped. "Tyler already saw it. The damage is done."

The kid's name struck a nerve in him, and there was no hiding it. "So, you're Lockwood's girl now?" he asked mockingly. She jutted her jaw defiantly.

"I'm nobody's girl," she said pointedly. To further her point, she pushed him back. "Not Tyler's, and most definitely not yours."

"Oh, that hurts," he muttered sarcastically. She narrowed her eyes and moved around him. He shot his hand out and pulled her back to where she'd been against the railing. "Why are you even bothering with that guy?"

"Why are you bothering with me?" she shot back, pulling her arm out of his grip, but not moving from where she stood. "It's clear that you want Katherine."

"I'm done with Katherine," he stated. She rolled her eyes.

"So, I'm just the rebound, right?" she said, raising a brow. "Thanks."

"And I'm the stand-in until Lockwood decides to start paying attention to you again," he countered. She couldn't say anything, and it became clear they'd reached an impasse. He didn't want an impasse, and judging by the conflicted look in her eyes as he stepped closer, neither did she. He stared her down, waiting, searching her face until he saw her resolve start to break. At first she held up her hands against his chest to stop him from stepping closer, but after only a moment, she took a hold of his shirt and pulled him forward, tilting her head up to meet him halfway.

As much as her conflicted emotions confused him, her response made him more than eager to forget their argument. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her against him, molding her completely to him as they kissed, a silent agreement to not bring up anything they'd just discussed, not for a while. The problems were enough trouble on their own, and if they could forget about them, even if only for a moment, it was worth the cost. Just as he was starting to wonder how long they could stay out there on the front porch, she pulled back and took his hand.

"Come on," she said quietly, and led him down from the porch to the back yard. As he followed her, a car drove slowly by, one he recognized, but couldn't place. After a moment, it continued down the street and drove away, but he knew there was no denying it: they'd been spotted. She stood in the shadows, waiting for him with a raised brow. He shook his head and eyed her carefully.

"It _is_ you, right?" he asked, stepping forward. "Not some age-old witch out to get me?"

She laughed and shook her head, pulling him to her in the shadow of the house. "Just me," she said, twisting her fingers into his hair. He couldn't resist those brown eyes, and it was reluctantly that he realized it wouldn't have mattered if they were brown, green, or purple: that girl was something else.

Oh what a complicated web they weaved.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**While I would looove to ask a review of every single person who read, I know that won't happen, lol, so... I await at least 7 reviews to continue. It's important for me to know your thoughts, guys! Thanks so much, and I hope you all are well!**


	29. No Evidence Except for the Eyes

**Author's Note:**

**Hey, guys! Aaah, I'm on a roll now, aren't I? Ha ha I'm spoiling you guys, only 'cuz you're spoiling me with reviews ^_^ Hope you enjoy this long chapter- Please, let me know what you guys thought, okay? We writers can get insecure about what we create, too, and reviews can soothe those insecurities... hint, hint...**

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**Hope you all have a safe, fun Halloween.**

* * *

Something about storms always screamed of foreboding.

Then again, with the state of affairs in Mystic Falls, it was truly no surprise. Damon had been contacted by Pearl and Anna, informing him that the tomb vampires were out and about, adjusting to life in the twenty-first century. Even if Mikaela had gotten a feeling that they wanted revenge, Damon had assured her that they weren't going to try anything any time soon.

Of course, as tended to happen when she predicted something, it came true. One night when Mikaela had been at her house, having a rare dinner with her mother and Benji, she'd received a call from Damon, telling her that they'd been attacked. Apparently, two vampires from the tomb had shown up at the boarding house with full intentions of killing the brothers. Obviously they hadn't been successful, and only one of the two had managed to escape. Damon had contacted Pearl who, in turn, had promised to put the coven of vampires back on track. Mikaela wasn't at all comforted with the promises, but, of course, Damon, being the way he was, had insisted that they had the situation under control.

It was strange how a tomb of vengeful vampires could be set free, all of them very pissed at the brothers, and he still seemed to think he could take them on.

"Mom, I'll be back in an hour with the groceries," Mikaela called into the house, grabbing her jacket off the coat rack. It was pouring outside the shelter of the front porch, making it hard to see anything beyond where her car was parked. The weatherman had made it clear that it would be at least two days before the storm blew over, and even then, light showers would ride the coattails of the storm. She looked behind her to see her mother sitting in the living room, typing into her laptop with her legs thrown over the arm of the La-Z-Boy. She waved absently at her daughter.

"Be careful out there," her mother called flatly, her eyes never leaving the screen. "The rain's really coming down."

Mikaela couldn't help but smile to herself as she voiced reassurance to her mother and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. The doctor had been beyond embarrassed after the scene at the Grill the other day, but in a way, it had brought them closer. Mikaela knew that these lapses in her mother's cold behavior were only ever temporary, but she decided to enjoy this particular lapse while it lasted.

Anyways, she had other things on her mind to worry about.

Pulling up the fabric hood of her leather jacket, she shot out into the rain, unlocking the door of her car and jumping in. Quickly turning on the car and putting the heater to full power, she drove out of the driveway and onto the main road toward the boarding house. Ever since the attack on the brothers, she'd been staying with her mother. However, there were still some things that needed attending to in her other unofficial residency.

Within a couple of minutes she'd parked her car in its usual spot and was pushing open the front door, announcing her arrival. Nobody responded, but she didn't think much of it and pulled off her jacket, hanging it on the rack to drip. Even under the jacket she wore a thin black sweater, hoping it would help protect her against the cold rain. As she made her way inside, she heard the sound of glasses clinking and followed it to the parlor.

Damon stood over the dry bar with two glasses, both already filled with clear liquid. She raised a brow as he held one out to her and she accepted it, lifting it up to sniff it. "Water?" she said, surprised. "I'm impressed. Are you turning a new leaf?"

He rolled his eyes and sat on one of the couches, stretching his legs out lazily and folding one arm behind his head. "Yours is water, mine isn't," he stated, winking as he lifted the glass to his lips. "Don't you know underage drinking is illegal?" She smiled and sat down across from him, dropping her backpack onto the floor. "What brings you here?"

"I was hoping to look through some journals for information on the tomb vampires," she answered, leaning back in the chair. "Maybe I can find a clue, make a connection with one of them, find out what they're planning."

"Pearl says they aren't planning anything," he reminded her with a sigh. "And if they are, we'll just take them out."

"Yeah, twenty-three vampires against you and your brother," she said, unconvinced. "Speaking of which, where is Stefan?"

Damon nodded at the entryway just as Stefan blurred into view, dressed in a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt. Mikaela had spent enough time living with the two vampires to know that he was all set to go hunting. "Hey Kaela," Stefan greeted with a nod. "Damon. I'm going out for a run. Be back in an hour."

"Bon apetit," Damon muttered, waving. "Try not to piss off any forest rangers defending the wildlife, okay?"

Stefan didn't respond to Damon's teasing, simply ran out the front door, leaving it open out of habit. When he didn't turn around to close it, Mikaela put down her glass and hurried to the foyer, closing the door to keep the rain out. Beyond the window was a blurry gray world, tossed and pulled in any which way by an invisible force of nature. Mesmerized for a moment, she lifted her hand and ran her fingertips down the glass, the only thing separating her from that world.

She was broken out of her trance when she sensed someone behind her. A smile already spreading across her face, she turned around, crossing her arms and raising a brow. "I take it nobody's here?" she asked, but she already knew the answer by the unmasked expression of hunger in his eyes. He set his glass down on a small table and stalked forward, and almost involuntarily she stepped back, her natural reaction to a predator.

Because, quite frankly, he was exactly that: a predator. Even in simple dark jeans and a black t-shirt, he perfectly embodied the danger that followed him wherever he went. He kept moving forward until her back bumped against the door and he trapped her there, arms braced on either side of her head.

"So... What are you _really _doing here?" he asked, this time the question taking on a much deeper tone. She met his eyes and touched his cheek with her fingertips, smiling despite herself.

"I'll give you three guesses," she offered quietly, moving forward to place a soft kiss on his cheek. "Any ideas?"

He smirked, running a hand along her shoulder to cradle her neck. "I have some," he admitted, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. "Want to hear the first?" She couldn't help laughing when he nuzzled her neck, the gesture so sweet that she found herself throwing her arms around his neck in a quick hug. He lifted her up and she shrieked, clinging to his shoulders to keep from falling.

"Aah, put me down!" she exclaimed, but there was no force behind the words. Of course, he didn't oblige, instead carrying her to the parlor where they'd been only a minute before. "Damon, I'm serious!"

"Yeah, right," he said, and even if she couldn't see his face, she knew he was rolling his eyes. "You've been dying to see me for the past two days."

"That's not the point!" she insisted, but couldn't help shrieking in laughter when he spun them around in a circle. "Please, I'm going to fall!"

"I'm a vampire, sweetheart," he reminded her, grinning as he tightened his hold on her waist. "My coordination is ex-"

Without warning, his foot caught on the coffee table, and the pair went tumbling down. She gripped onto him and braced herself, but he took the force of the fall, and when she opened her eyes, they hadn't fallen to the floor. Instead, they were both spread out on the couch, him underneath her and their legs a tangled mess. She lifted her head up slightly and, taking in the way their bodies were completely pressed together, tried to pry herself away. He held her in place by her arms and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"You did that on purpose," she accused. He looked at her with wide, innocent blue eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, pretending not to understand what she meant. She raised a brow and he grinned shamelessly at her, not bothering to pretend anymore. "Come on, can you blame me? I missed you."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Don't get all sappy on me," she scolded, dropping her head onto his chest in surrender. "You just missed the action."

"That, too," he admitted, shrugging. "But I did miss you. I need you around to insult me."

"You don't really make it that hard," she muttered, grinning when she saw him narrow his eyes at her. "Hey, you're the one who said he missed my insults. I can easily go back to the glaring and arguing and insulting instead of this."

He seemed to contemplate it for a moment before pulling her up so her head could rest on his shoulder. "Nah, I prefer you like this," he decided, earning a smile from her. She laid her hand on his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of him breathing. She liked the sound, enjoyed the feeling of having him that close to her, surrounding her... "And speaking of 'this'..."

He trailed off, and had no need to explain to her what she meant. Just like that, the moment ended, and with a sigh, she pushed herself up and off of him. He let her go and they disentangled from each other, each sitting on opposite ends of the couch, waiting for the other to say something. She caved first, running a hand through her hair anxiously.

"Look, I know we agreed not to tell the others about... _this_," she started, gesturing between them two. "But I'm just not sure _this _is a good..." She caught a glimpse of her watch and cursed, getting to her feet. "Sorry, I've gotta go."

"Where?" he asked, frowning. She got a flash image from him of Tyler, and it was everything for her not to tease him about being jealous.

"I told my mom I was going to get groceries," she said quickly, feeling a small amount of guilt for the lie she'd told her. "I don't want her or Benji asking too many questions."

"Good idea," he said, leading her to the door. "It might not be a good idea to get anyone else involved with these vampires. Liz is gonna call you later to ask if you've had any visions, so... You know the drill."

"Tell her that there aren't any," she said, waving a hand. "Yeah yeah I know. I'm heading up to talk to Carol later, so I could just tell Mayor Lockwood then, and he can carry the message. Everything's starting to calm down with the Council, so it shouldn't be any problem."

"What do you have to talk to Carol about?" he asked, following her to the front door. As she pulled on her jacket, she stuck out her tongue in distaste.

"Just something about the Miss Mystic Pageant," she muttered. "You know, girly stuff."

"Are you participating?" he asked, quirking a brow. She wrinkled her nose.

"Hell no. That's Elena's and Caroline's thing; I pulled out the first chance I got."

He laughed as she pushed open the door, and leaned against the door frame. "So what do you two need to talk about?" he pressed, cocking his head to the side. She shrugged.

"The dance. I'm in charge," she said simply. "You know, 'cuz I'm Mikaela the Dancing Girl, Daughter of the Drunken Doctor and the Coma Man. It's a sympathy thing Carol has going on, giving me something to do." Suddenly she frowned and crossed her arms. "You know, you're asking an awful lot of questions."

"Will I get to see you later?" he asked, ignoring her implied question. She chuckled, shaking her head.

"Maybe," she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "I have to talk to Stefan about being Elena's escort, so I might stop by."

"You know what I mean." Of course she knew what he meant. He took a step forward so they were only inches apart. "You can't keep coming here and then running off. At some point, we're going to have to talk."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right," she agreed, crossing her arms again. "I'll, um, see what I can do."

"Yeah, right. You're just going to come up with a better excuse for taking advantage of me and leaving, aren't you?" he asked, absolutely no hint at all in his voice that he was bothered by the arrangement. She laughed outright, but color spread across her cheeks, something he wasn't used to seeing happen with her.

"Stop pretending that it bothers you," she muttered, quickly getting over her momentary bashfulness. Without warning, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him before taking off with a grin. He watched her run to her car in the rain, pulling up her hood and grabbing her keys out of her pocket as she went. Shaking his head, he couldn't stop himself from smiling as he spun her cellphone around and stepped back into the house.

"You're right, it doesn't bother me," he said to nobody in particular, sliding open the screen on the phone. "Doesn't mean I can't even the playing field, though." He found Tyler Lockwood's number in the phone and got to work.

* * *

It was right around when Mikaela pulled into the marketplace parking lot half an hour later that she came to the conclusion that Damon had stolen her cellphone. She was certain she'd had it in her pocket when she'd arrived at the boarding house, and "magically" it had disappeared from its usual place. Cursing quietly to herself for not catching him in the act, she turned the car around with every intention of driving back to the boarding house and giving the man a long, well thought-out lecture on privacy.

As she passed by a road leading into the woods, however, all those plans changed.

Her hands, as if moving with of own free will, turned the car down onto a desolate road. She had never been down that area, but as she drove slowly between the trees and followed the tire tracks embedded in the muddy ground, she felt a sense of familiarity between them. After about twenty minutes of driving into the forest, she caught sight of a small house, and realized it had been her subconscious destination.

As she parked the car and killed the engine, she didn't stop to consider the strangeness of the situation. Her life was strange: she herself was stranger than most by nature. Running on her gut feeling was actually the best way she knew how to get things done. Careful not to slip on the mud, she stepped out of the car and made her way to the front doorstep.

Somehow she found herself knocking on the door, and as she waited, she closed her eyes and scanned the house. There were many people inside, but out of all of them, the presence that stood out the most was Stefan. She couldn't tell much more from his aura other than the fact that he was there, mostly because she was finding it harder to focus on him than it normally was. Chances were he'd just fed and had her blocked, like Damon did most of the time.

After only a minute, a middle-aged woman answered the door, an open, wide-eyed look on her face. "May I help you?" she greeted, smiling sweetly. She was a small thing, a thin woman with short, curled hair and light, unhealthy-colored skin. Mikaela swallowed her sympathy for the woman's weakened state and forced a smile.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for my friend, Stefan?" she said, projecting as much friendliness to the woman as she could muster. "He said he'd be here."

The woman looked confused for a moment, and looked behind her, as if asking someone a question. "Y-yes, let me go see if he's not busy," she said after a moment, nodding at Mikaela. "Wait here while I go see?"

"No problem," she said quickly, nodding. "Thank you very much."

The woman stepped back, closing the door, but not locking it. As she waited, Mikaela rubbed her hands together, trying to get rid of some of the cold in her fingers. She looked around at the forest, searching for any landmarks that may have piqued her memory as she'd driven in, but saw none. She had definitely never been to the house, and she couldn't even begin to imagine what Stefan was doing there, either. The front door opened again and she turned around, the smile back in place.

A man with short black hair stood in the doorway this time, a calculating look in his black eyes as he looked her over. He seemed very vaguely familiar and was dressed simply enough, and as he stepped out of the house, she saw no weapons on him. Even so, as he gave her an inviting smile and stepped forward, Mikaela found herself taking a step back.

"I'm sorry, Stefan's kind of busy right now," the man apologized, and for all purposes, he should have seemed sincere. Mikaela nodded quickly, forcing herself to smile back. "Are you a friend of his?"

"Well, yeah, sorta," she answered, her words coming out faster than she'd intended. She swallowed and took a breath. "I'm sorry, I just thought he'd be here. I'll come back another time."

She needed to get out of there. The same way she'd known that she needed to go to the house, she knew she couldn't be there. The house, the man, were dangerous, and she wasn't safe. The man continued the act, giving her a quizzical look.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, gesturing back at the house. "You can come inside if you'd like. We were just about to have a bite to eat, and there's plenty to go around."

She shook her head shortly. "I'm sure," she said. Internally she cursed her voice for faltering. "I, uh, have someplace to be, so if you could just tell Stefan to call me..."

At that point she was standing at the foot of the porch steps and he stood at the edge of the porch, sheltered from the rain. He cocked his head to the side, as if only noticing her for the first time. The edge of his mouth lifted into something of a smirk, and he took a step down. "I'm sorry, forgive my rudeness. I'm Frederick," he said, extending his hand to her. "Have we met before?"

She shook her head and forced herself to hold her ground, lifting her hand to place it in his. Rather than shake it like she'd expected him to, he lifted it up, turned it over, and pressed his nose to the inside of her wrist. Feeling her every instinct go on red alert, she jerked her hand away and balled her fists. He seemed completely unaffected by her reaction and closed his eyes, smiling to himself.

"I thought I recognized you," he said quietly, opening his eyes and looking at her with a wide grin. He no longer tried to hide his predatory look as he stalked forward and she stepped back, stumbling over the slippery ground. "You're the girl from the tomb. What's your name?"

"You're one of the vampires," she stated, ignoring the question. "One of the twenty-six. What have you done to Stefan?" He continued to look her over, head turned and much resembling a crow, or a snake, observing its prey carefully before striking.

"He's alive," he assured her absently. A spark crossed his eyes. "An angel's name," he said, holding up a hand. "Don't tell me. Gabriela?" She reached behind her, hand poised over the outer pocket of her backpack. He shook his head, stepping forward. "No... Mikaela." He seemed to catch the spike in her heart rate, because he nodded in satisfaction. "Yes, that was the name."

He shot a hand out and gripped her arm, jerking her forward so she fell against him. He lifted her wrist again and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent. "You caused quite a scene that night, spilling blood everywhere like you did. I should probably thank you: that pool of blood by the tomb entrance was what got me out of there. And I do have to say, it may have been the hunger, but it was one of the best drinks I have ever had."

She was frozen in place, realizing she was trapped. Nobody knew where she was, and if the small crowd gathering on the front porch was any indication, she was severely outnumbered. She wanted to try and escape, but she knew she didn't stand a chance. Swallowing and setting her jaw, she met his eyes full on and glared. "Whatever you're going to do, get it over with," she snapped coldly. She released her hold on the stake and held her hands up, showing she was unarmed. "After all, it's my fault you're out, isn't it?"

The seconds that followed seemed to drag on agonizingly, stretching out as his black eyes searched her brown ones for some break in her cold facade. When there was none, he nodded, gripping her upper arm. "I see why Damon's attached to you," he mused, running a hand over her hair. "You're a little firecracker." She gritted her teeth as he touched her cheek softly, a mocking caress. "I wonder if he'll be more upset with what we did to his brother, or with what I'm going to do to you."

He looked over his shoulder and signaled to one of the vampires of the porch. "Tell the others, Damon's brought us dessert," he called, and dragged her up the house. She followed without much struggle, but couldn't help stopping at the porch steps when she saw the blood-red eyes staring down at her, merciless, vengeful, but more than anything else, _hungry_.

And that was all it took for her to jerk her arm out of his hold and run.

* * *

Damon was starting to get impatient waiting for the girl to return. Her phone hadn't stopped ringing after the first hour, and her ringtones were starting to get on his nerves. After fifteen minutes of the incessant blaring from the damned device, he lowered the volume to silent and checked the call history. Most of the calls were from Diane and Carol Lockwood, but a text message had arrived only five minutes earlier from the girl's mother, and another from Benji.

Curiosity killed the cat, but reading a text message wasn't the same as a stake to the heart. Deciding to risk the fight, he opened the text message from Diane first.

_Where are you?_

Frowning, he opened the second message from Benji.

_Ur mom's freaking out. U ok?_

Just then, another message arrived, from Elena.

_Kaela, have u seen Stefan? He isn't answering my phone calls. I'm worried._

Damon wasn't a psychic, but he was starting to get a very, very bad feeling. He grabbed his phone to call Stefan, only to find that he already had a missed call from him, along with a voicemail. Feeling a small sense of relief, he pressed the button to listen to the message, wondering what his brother had been up to. The beep that signaled the beginning of the recording shot through the phone speaker. The sound of movement reached his ears, and with confusion, he listened harder. After a couple of seconds, someone started to speak.

"Come on Frederick, I think you're pushing this too far," a male said halfheartedly. A loud thump sounded, and almost immediately after, the so-named Frederick spoke.

"Shut up and hold the phone," he ordered. "I've almost-" A piercing scream drowned out all conversation, followed by yells of encouragement. "Now, that's more like it!" Frederick exclaimed. The person who had screamed (obviously a woman) let out a feral growl, only to start screaming again.

"Just **stop! **Please!" she pleaded, her voice breaking at the end. Damon felt his body freeze as he recognized her, and without fully realizing what he was doing, he grabbed his car keys and started marching out of the house. He heard fabric tearing just as the message ended, and that broke his last ounce of control.

* * *

The sun started to set several hours later over the forest behind the blanket of clouds. The only indication from the basement was a sudden dimming in the atmosphere, leaving the light bulb hanging in the middle of the room as the sole source of light. Caught in the reaches of the scanty yellow rays were two vampires, both teetering between reality and unconsciousness from blood loss and exhaustion. Stefan was hung from the ceiling by ropes that had been soaked in vervain, the toxic herb burning into his wrists and leaving the stench of burnt flesh strong in the air. The other vampire was a dark-skinned young man staked to a chair by his hands and knees. A small pool of blood had been soaked into the dirt around him from the wounds that were refusing to heal around the stakes.

From a corner of the room in a useless heap, Mikaela watched her surroundings, measuring up Stefan's and the other vampire's strength. Neither was in any condition to help themselves, much less help her get Stefan down from his restraints. She'd been listening for fifteen minutes to see if anyone would return to the basement, but the hallways and staircases had been considerably quiet since she'd woken up.

Deciding it was time, she took a deep breath and started to stretch herself out. She'd barely moved an inch before she had to stop to keep from crying out. Stefan stirred and the dark-skinned vampire (Harper, she believed) lifted his head, but neither gave any indication that they knew she was awake. She gritted her teeth and took several forced breaths, the action sending sparks of pain through her chest and back.

Frederick hadn't been joking when he'd said he'd liked the taste of her blood. Through the blurry double vision, all along her arms she could see bright red bite marks surrounded by swollen tissue and half-formed bruises, and memory and pain told her that her neck and the rest of her body was covered in similar markings. The sleeves of her sweater had been ripped off in the struggle and the collar had been stretched out, leaving her in what could barely be considered a scrap of clothing and torn jeans, and he'd given her boots and jacket to one of the female vampires. She was freezing, and her whole body felt like it'd been beaten- not such a long shot from the truth, considering the final act had been to throw her down the basement staircase when he'd been done with her.

Once she'd regained herself, she set her jaw and forced her arms to hold her up. Her back and arms screamed their objections, but she ignored them and lifted herself to her knees. Stefan had opened his eyes and was watching her through half-open lids, all energy drained out of him. "What... are you doing?" he asked in a wheeze. The most she could do was shake her head, warning him to stay quiet. She hadn't seen anybody, but she knew that there had to be a guard watching in the hallway. Taking the hint, he didn't say anything else, but watched her carefully as she started to crawl to where Harper was.

The dark-skinned vampire stirred as she knelt next to him and frowned, not recognizing who she was. She held a finger to her lips, warning him to stay quiet. He had two stakes driven into his thighs right above his knees, so with an apologetic look and a silent warning, she closed her hands around the stake closest to her. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, bracing himself.

A grunt escaped him as she wrenched it out of his leg, but she didn't give him time to recover. Before the wound could heal, she lowered her head and covered it with her mouth, sucking in all of the blood that escaped before it healed. She got about three mouthfuls before the man's healing agent kicked in, sealing it off. Not wasting any time, she leaned across him and performed the same act with his other leg, this time getting less blood than with the first. It was less than a minute by the time she was able to free his hands, and even as she was wiping the blood off her mouth with the back of her hand, she felt it already starting to take effect. The gashes along her arms were healing, and the bruises on her body didn't hurt as much as they had before.

"Sorry," she whispered as quietly as she could. The man shook his head, denying the apology.

"Take him down," he whispered, nodding at Stefan. Testing out her legs, she slowly got to her feet, using the chair for support. Strength returned quickly to her muscles, and with the aid of one of the torture tools laid out on a bloody tray (a serrated kitchen knife) she was able to cut Stefan down. His dead weight came tumbling down heavier and faster than she'd expected, but Harper jumped in to help, his wounds already healed and his strength returning.

"Can you take care of the guard?" she asked in a whisper. Harper nodded, and without another word, grabbed a stake off the ground. She adjusted Stefan so that his arm was draped over her shoulders and she could hold him up around his waist, but it was difficult considering his weight and their differences in height. After about a minute Harper returned, and signaled to them that it was safe to leave. With a grunt she got a better grip on Stefan and started forward. "Come on," she encouraged quietly. "Let's get out of here."

As they moved down the basement hallway and up the stairs, she went over their possible escape routes. They were too far from town to just take off into the forest, but as far as she could tell, none of the vampires had cars, nor would she know how to hot-wire one if she had to. She had the keys to her car in her pocket, but she doubted that they could turn on the car without any of the vampires hearing them.

It wasn't until they were going straight into the forest that she realized they were going to make a run for it. The sun had set a while before, so the entire forest was submerged in darkness, leaving only the moon as their guide between the trees. At first she thought that she was following Harper, and then he ran off, disappearing into the darkness and leaving them two on their own. Running on her gut feeling, she led the staggering vampire ahead, hoping that her instincts didn't fail her again.

"Where... did Harper... go?" Stefan asked between pants. Mikaela searched through the blackness and scanned the area for him, but didn't sense anybody around. A part of her feared that he had left to save himself, but she dismissed that thought, if not to keep Stefan from giving up.

"He went to get help," she answered, even if she didn't know how much truth could be in the statement. Would he even know where to go if he wanted to get help? He'd been in a tomb for 145 years, which didn't make him the most resourceful person to turn to.

Suddenly Stefan stopped, pushing himself away from Mikaela. "They're coming," he said, his knees giving out underneath him. She shot forward and caught him before he could hit the ground, but he turned out to be heavier than she'd anticipated, and both of them fell get to their knees in the mud. The rain had stopped not too long before, and even as she tried to get back to her feet, she found her bare feet skidding and sinking into the uneven earth.

"We have to keep going," she said, trying to swallow her fear. Images of all that Frederick had put her through over the course of a few hours played in her head, sending her heart into overdrive. While she didn't fear for her life, those hours had been among the most painful she'd ever experienced, and the prospect of even a second more made her want to run and hide. Focusing on Stefan, she channeled her emotions into her arms and tried to lift him up to stand.

"Come on, grab onto my shoulders!" she urged, bending down and wrapping her arms around his waist. Even with all of her concentration, her legs gave out under her, too, and they both ended up on the ground again, covered in mud and without enough strength to get out of it. Stefan fell forward and she collapsed, too tired to hold him up anymore, or even herself, for that matter. His dead weight fell against her chest, making it hard to breathe, but even if she voiced the problem, he didn't- or couldn't- move away. The vampires were coming, and she just couldn't bring herself to shove him off of her, to run, to encourage Stefan to get away, none of it. She was completely spent.

He started to stir, and for a brief, ridiculous moment she wondered if maybe he was tapping into some sort of vampiric energy reserve. After a second he lifted himself off of her, only to collapse again, this time knocking the air out of her. Pain shot through her chest and she lifted her hands to his shoulders, trying to push him off, but it was no use. In the back of her mind, sheltered from the pain her body was going through, she wondered if it was supposed to be considered humorous that she'd survived Frederick, but was going to be suffocated by the person she was trying to save.

Managing to get in a shallow breath, she raised her hand and pulled a lock of his hair, hard. His cheek was pressed completely against hers, and she felt his expression twist when she inflicted the small amount of pain. Finally she felt some of the pressure relieved, and he pushed himself up again, allowing her to breathe. Gratefully she gulped in several deep breaths, ignoring the pinpricks shooting against her ribcage with the action.

"Oh God, thank you Stefan... I just couldn't-" The words choked in her throat when she saw his expression. Blood-red eyes with darkened veins around them, fangs elongated, all concentration focused on the pulse of her neck. He was starving, and if it was enough to make him feed on her, she knew he wouldn't have the self-control to stop. She looked straight at him, trying not to panic lest her heart rate pick up, but there was no way to control the vital organ from pounding against her chest as if trying to escape. "Stefan, please-!"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and with a cry of anguish, he dove down and gave in.

* * *

More or less twenty vampires later, Alaric and Damon stood in the foyer of the house, panting and looking around at all of the damage they'd caused. They'd sneaked inside and started killing the vampires off one by one, Alaric with his vampire-slaying weaponry and Damon with the weapons nature had given him. He listened for anyone else in the house, but only heard a single pair of footsteps coming up the porch steps, and he quickly recognized them.

Elena emerged through the front door, a panicked look on her face. "They're not there," she said on the verge of tears. "There's so much blood, but they're not there!"

Exchanging a look with Alaric, Damon sped to the basement, not bothering to move at human speed. From the moment he stood at the top of the steps, the smell of blood, both vampire and human, hit him with almost physical force. Drops and smears covered the steps, and he found that he didn't want to go further. Without fully knowing it, he felt his eyes darkened and his fangs start to grow, the hunter's need to kill taking over. He knew it was her blood everywhere, and wanted to kill the one who had dared do that, wanted to make him suffer tenfold what he had put her through.

In a way that only a vampire could, Damon found himself running into the forest, following signs and a trail that human eyes couldn't detect. The blood that had led him to the basement was gone, most likely washed away from the rain, but it was only seconds before he heard voices and slowed down.

The first one he noticed was his brother, bent over in the mud, whispering to himself. The second thing he noticed was a vampire staked to a tree with a huge branch, the work much too barbaric to have been done by his little brother. Not seeing any signs of her, he stepped forward to help his brother.

That was when he realized his brother wasn't whispering to himself.

She was laid out on the mud, eyes closed and a frowning as if having a bad dream. Her arms were spread out to her sides, the nails caked with blood, and her sweater practically slipping off of her body with the rain. Stefan's hand were fisted on his knees, emotion ripping through him and making him shake. Damon looked between her, his brother, and the dead vampire, and realized what had happened. The bite mark on her neck only further confirmed it, and before he could fully register it, his hand snapped out and knocked Stefan away from her.

He heard his brother grunt and then land in the ground ten feet away, the splash not followed by footsteps or the sound of him getting to his feet. He didn't even seem pained by the blow, a side-effect of drinking human blood, along with killing like an animal, as he had done to the vampire. He kept whispering his apologies to her, to his brother, and to Elena, the shame keeping him from standing up.

Damon ignored him and bent down next to her, brushing those unfamiliar bangs away from her face. "Come on, wake up," he urged quietly, resting a hand against her cheek. She was so cold, and so still, it didn't feel like it could be the same girl he'd been with just that morning. She had to wake up, she just had to. Her story couldn't end with his brother drinking the life out of her, not after the torture she'd gone through at the hands of yet another vampire. Just as he was starting to feel that hole in his chest tear open, her eyelid twitched, and he heard the tell-tale sputter come from her chest. Not wasting a second, he bit hard into his wrist and held it to her mouth, lifting her head so the liquid could drip down her throat.

"That's my girl," he urged as she molded her lips to his wrist and started to drink, consciously or unconsciously, he didn't know. The mark on her neck healed over, and before he could take his wrist away from her mouth, she turned her head and groaned.

"C-c-cold," she whispered, her teeth chattering together as her whole body started to shake. "I'm s-s-so cold, Damon. It was a mistake, going to the h-h-house..." He wiped the blood off of her mouth and turned her to look at him, needing to see her eyes to be certain. She frowned and placed her hand over his. "T-take me home?"

Without a word to Stefan or a moment's hesitation, he scooped her up and did exactly as she asked.

* * *

Not even an hour later he was laying in her bed, hands folded over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling, listening to her down the hall. Unlike the last time she'd died and he'd given her his blood, she hadn't passed out yet, and had even taken more blood from him once they'd arrived at the boarding house. With some help from him going up the stairs, she'd gotten a clean set of pajamas and gone to take a shower, most likely already knowing he'd be listening to make sure she didn't faint in the process.

When Damon had arrived at the house he'd found Harper, a vampire that had been trapped in the basement with Stefan. Apparently he'd left Stefan and Mikaela to go look for him, hoping he could help, but had found the house empty. Stefan had followed him to the house and told him what he knew of what happened, confirming Harper's story, but only providing details of the escape, and not necessarily what had been done to the girl. He was over at Elena's house filling her in, and once Damon had called Diane, she'd wanted to go straight to the boarding house to make sure her daughter was alright. It had taken much insisting on his part that she was perfectly healthy, along with a promise to have her back at her own house first thing in the morning. Strange how it made him feel like the older boyfriend, promising to keep her daughter safe and well.

Too bad he was doing a botched up job about it.

Soft footsteps from down the hall signaled that she was coming, and he tried not to smother her as she walked into the room. She paused in the doorway when she saw him, and gave him a half-smile. "You're making a habit of hanging out in my bed," she said, a weak attempt at a joke considering how raspy her voice sounded. She was getting the color back in her cheeks and she didn't limp as much anymore when she walked, but her eyes had shadows underneath them, and she wasn't standing as tall as she normally did. It was strange for him to accept it, but for the first time, she looked tired. As she stepped inside, he got to his feet and moved forward, taking the load she had in her arms from her.

He looked down to see that she had the remains of her clothes wrapped up in a dirty towel. Blood and mud had stained every garment beyond repair, and he couldn't help but wonder just what had been done to her body to make her bleed so much. The blood she'd gotten from Harper had healed all of her outward injuries, but he could see in her eyes that, whatever had happened, it had hurt her in a way that blood couldn't heal.

Apparently catching onto his concern, she placed a hand against his chest and shook her head. "It's over," she stated firmly, taking a deep breath. "Stefan's safe. I'm alive. That's what matters."

"What happened?" The question slipped out before he could stop it, and just as he'd worried she would do, she shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said quietly. She took the clothes back from him and dumped them in a corner of the room. "It's over. I'm safe."

"Did he touch you?" Of course he'd touched her- there was no other way to get the blood out of her without touching her- but he could tell she knew what he'd meant. Her sweater and jeans had been torn, and the dark shadow over her eyes made him fear the worst. When she didn't answer, he couldn't stop himself from growling in anger. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, grabbing onto his shirt tightly.

"No, no he-he didn't..." She trailed off, burying her face in his chest and shaking her head. "No, he didn't. He kissed me once, but that was it. It wasn't that kind of torture." He couldn't help the wave of relief that washed over him, even if she _had_ been tortured, and directed that relief into holding her tighter. They stayed like that for a while, him running a hand over her hair as she simply stood there, resting against him.

When he felt her knees start to wobble, he steered her to the bed so that she could lie down. She didn't resist as he helped her onto the bed and pulled back the covers for her. She wore a pair of black fabric shorts with a white tank top, and he couldn't help but find it strange how even if there were no bruises or injuries on her skin, he felt like she'd been beaten beyond recognition. She smiled gratefully at him and settled back against the pillows, closing her eyes.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He pushed her hair away from her forehead and the corner of her mouth lifting slightly in satisfaction. He tried to smile down at her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, and started to pull away.

"Good night."

Her hand reaching out and grabbing his wrist stopped him. She was looking up at him then and scrambling to her knees so that they were at eye level, her expression pleading as she pulled him toward her. "Don't leave, please," she whispered desperately, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He was shocked, frozen in place, unable to respond nor pull away. He'd never seen her like this, needing him, reaching for him and him alone. "I can't sleep. I-I-I'm scare-"

He knew she didn't want to say it out loud, so he pulled back and held a finger to her lips. Her eyes were shining with tears, and it was everything to not go out and search for something to take his fury out on. Not wanting to put her through any more than she'd already gone through, he kicked off his shoes and complied, moving to the other side of the bed. She pulled back the covers for him and moved over so that he could lay down, making sure to give her her space. Even if she, for some bizarre reason, felt safer with him there, he had a feeling that she was in a very delicate state of mind, and didn't want to push her.

Once they'd both settled down, he reached across to the bedside lamp and turned it off. Darkness filled the room, and he felt her relax once the light was gone. While he felt absolutely no need to sleep, he figured he'd pretend, for her sake. To his surprise, after a couple of minutes she moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. When he didn't protest, she rested a hand against his chest, and curled her body against his. Not sure how to respond, he stayed still, worried what she would do if he tried to move away, or move closer.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her words skittering over his t-shirt and capturing his complete attention. "I know we need to talk, but I can't, not right now." He could hear the emotion under her words, the fear, the need for comfort, and it melted his inhibitions.

"It's fine," he assured her, reaching out his arm so she could crawl closer. She didn't waste a second, moving closer so her face rested against his neck and wrapping an arm around his chest.

"Don't leave me," she whispered. "Not tonight." He heard her swallow the tears and pretended not to hear them, settling his hand on her arm and placing a soft kiss on top of her head. After all that had happened, he couldn't bring himself to even pretend that he needed her to ask. He wouldn't have been able to leave her side at that moment, even if she'd begged him to.

* * *

Across town, Bonnie pulled a wooden box out from under her bed, and lifted the lid. Nestled in between small red towels was a woven bracelet made out of herbs picked from around the boarding house, several circular beads knotted into the intricate, yet amateurishly made accessory. Murmuring a chant under her breath, she looped her two pointing fingers around the bracelet and pulled, hoping the herbs would rip apart like they had countless times when she'd made the bracelet for the spell.

Much to her disappointment, the bracelet held strong, the stems refusing to break away from each other, exactly as they had done once she'd cast the spell with Elena what felt like an eternity before. She cursed and tried again, pulling at the bracelet with all of her strength; the spell had been supposed to break down the inhibitions between Mikaela and men she had a connection with for only forty-eight hours, not weeks! The bracelet she'd cast the spell upon held strong, and with a resigned sigh, she dropped it back into its box.

All hell was going to break loose when she told Mikaela what she'd done.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Let me know what you guys think! And, couple of questions:**

**1. How do you think Mikaela and Damon will react when Bonnie tells them what she has to say? **

**2. What do you think Damon did with her phone? **

**If I get enough reviews, I hope to have the chapter out by Friday, like I did today... Otherwise, it may be a whiiiiiile...! Hope you enjoyed, y'all are simply the best ^_^**


	30. Unreal

**Author's Note:**

**Belated, important chapter... Thanks so much for the reviews last chapter, they really mean a lot to me! If I haven't answered your reviews yet, I'll answer them today.**

**For my anonymous reviewers, make accounts, ha ha! I want to be able to reply, and that way you can get an alert when I update!**

**So, here's Chapter 30- wow, it's been 30 chapters already! This one's pretty long, and it's heavy with drama. Don't worry, I think this is one of the last heavy ones...**

**The song used for the solo dance is "Permanent" by David Cook.**

**PS: I don't always understand the time jumps between episodes, so in this one, I made a lapse of three weeks from the last chapter.  
**

* * *

If there was one thing that unnerved him the most about dating a psychic, it was not having the same amount of insight she had. It had been three weeks since the incident with the tomb vampires, as well as three weeks since their night of cuddling, and Damon was on edge. Any other day, he would have loved to take advantage of the Miss Mystic Pageant and socialize with the locals, chat up the Sheriff to find out what she knew, maybe even flirt with Mrs. Lockwood; but that damn little psychic had messed him up. Everything from the lounge music to the clicking of heels against the white tiles of the Lockwood mansion floor to the polite laughter irritated him, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how Stefan was feeling. Hell, if he had to spend another hour mingling, he had a feeling he would go off the wagon then and there, too.

As he drank a glass of champagne that a passing waiter offered, he thought about everything that had transpired since rescuing both of his housemates. Stefan was going through human blood detoxing, a ridiculous concept for a vampire, but not for a saint like him. No, he'd tried getting back on the animal diet for a while, only to cave in to the bagged human stuff, a lifestyle Stefan didn't have the capacity to handle yet. Sure, on any other day, Damon enjoyed seeing his brother squirm, but Stefan's stealing ridiculous amounts of blood from the local hospitals was a real pain in the ass to cover up, especially when he couldn't admit he had a problem. Damon would be lying to claim he'd never gone off the wagon himself, but the times that he had, he hadn't been an idiot and tried to attend an activity filled with people like they were doing now, and he'd always been careful to not leave an entirely blatant trail for a council of wannabe vampire-hunting humans to find.

Speaking of the Founder's Council, John Gilbert, Elena's uncle, was in town, and with a strong ambition for ridding the town of vampires. He'd let Damon know that he knew pretty much everything about him and his brother, and when Damon had tried to kill him (because that's what you do when you encounter a human that knows too much), he'd only discovered that John had a ring that protected him from supernatural death. A human that knew too much, had a secret agenda, _and _couldn't die was a problem. To top it all off, Bonnie was back and watching Mikaela like an overprotective parent, making it very difficult for him to steal any moments away from her, and almost impossible to sit her down to talk and define their relationship.

Nothing was going the way he wanted. No, he wasn't idiotic in the sense that Stefan was, but he was incredibly stupid for other things, such as that damned teenager. For two weeks she'd managed to single-handedly dodge a serious conversation, using whatever resources she had at hand to do so, and not once giving him even a clue as to what she was thinking. Even the one time he'd cornered her and gotten his window to talk about the future, she'd managed to trick him and get away.

_One Week Before:_

"_So, what do you want to be?"_

_They both sat side by side on a mossy rock, staring out at the bluff as the sun set behind it. She was dressed in yoga pants and a camisole, and combined with the sweatshirt she had thrown over her shoulders, she looked like she was going to the gym. Judging by the distinct smell of sweat hanging over her skin, however, it was more likely that she'd just gotten back from a gym, not that she had answered any of his questions when he'd asked where she'd been. At his new question, she turned to him and cocked her head to the side, raising a brow._

"_Explain, why don't you?" she suggested, resting her elbows on her knees. He sighed and moved closer, his arm touching hers. She didn't pull away, but didn't move closer, either. He shrugged._

"_You know, when you graduate," he explained, waving a hand. "Don't all you teenagers have some sort of plan for college?"_

_To his surprise, she laughed. "That's a strange question," she commented once she'd finished. Instead of looking at him, she stared aimlessly out over the water._

"_No, it isn't," he said slowly. "It's actually standard conversation- at least, that's what I hear from people who have friends." A small smile played at her lips._

"_You want to know the truth?" He nodded, of course. She smirked and looked down at her hands. "The night I dropped Mom off at the airport, I told her that I was going to study at some art college, just to piss her off. She went off on me, yelling at the top of her lungs. By the end of the trip, she informed me I'd be studying medicine or dentistry, and that was that."_

"_Do you want to?"_

_She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "After spending so much time as a patient in the last couple of years, medicine has lost its glamor to me," she admitted. "I'm pretty sure she was joking, though." _

"_What do you want to study?"_

_She sighed and looked him full in the face, giving him the complete force of her dark eyes. "Why are you asking me about my future, Damon?" she asked bluntly. "It's something of a forbidden topic with you vampires, considering the only possibility for a lasting relationship would be both for participants to be undead."_

_He held up his hands, forming an invisible barrier. "I'm sorry! My bad for trying to have a non-vampire-related conversation," he said sarcastically. Apparently tired of the topic, she got up and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. Any further attempts he'd been considering vanished the moment she leaned forward and started to kiss him, tangling her hands in his hair and smiling against his lips..._

Okay, so fine, she hadn't necessarily tricked him, but that wasn't the point. It was beyond him how she managed to wrap him around her finger with the lightest touch, and how every kiss made his body burn for hers in a way that couldn't be normal. His only advantage had to be that he knew he was having the same effect on her. Whenever he kissed her, her eyes seemed to glaze over, and he knew that nobody else could possibly be on her mind.

Even so, she'd been hiding things from him. She'd been staying at her mother's house to save herself from the nighttime encounters, and would disappear from town for hours at a time every day without telling anybody where she was. He doubted she was involved with anyone, but the grace period for not defining their relationship had passed, and he was set on demanding a conversation from her by the end of the night. Setting down his empty glass, he followed the sound of Mrs. Lockwood's voice through the Lockwood mansion and found himself on the edge of the outdoor dance floor they'd set up for the occasion.

Five couples stood on the dance floor, among them Stefan and Elena. Music began to play, and the couples bowed to each other. That was when Damon remembered something Mikaela had mentioned, something about a dance she'd been directing... That must have been it. The girls competing for the title of Miss Mystic started to dance, the traditional dance bringing with it a flood of memories from his human years when he'd first learned how to do it himself. Elena looked stunning, as always, but lacked the grace that Katherine had had when she'd first danced with him. Seeing Katherine's doppelganger dance with his brother should have had some effect on him, but strangely enough, it didn't. Despite their physical appearances, on all accounts, Elena was not Katherine, and he knew that.

And, strangely enough, he found no longing to see Katherine, anyways.

After a couple of minutes, the dance ended. Figuring he'd go and get another drink at the open bar, he turned around, but froze as a new song started to play, and he heard a name be announced. Mrs. Lockwood was saying something over the microphone, but as his eyes found their target on the dance floor, he suddenly couldn't hear anything, but only see, and only her.

She stood in the center of the space, back straight and head held high. Her lips were painted burgundy red and her hair was pulled into an ornate ponytail, different from the wild look that he was used to. She wore a black gown that seemed to swirl above her ankles with a slit running along the side, giving him a good view of the strong legs underneath. The family heirloom that was her choker was fastened securely around her neck, the dark stone settling in the hollow between her collarbones. A young man with brown hair stood across from her dressed in a black tuxedo, a silver piercing on his brow catching the light. They both looked at each other intently, and as the singer started to vocalize, they began.

At first, their dance was identical to the dance the girls had performed. They bowed and held up their hands, almost touching as they circled around each other. There seemed to be glass between them, an invisible separation that they longed to pass. After only one repetition, their choreography changed. Damon recognized the steps of the waltz as her partner pulled her into his frame, taking her hand firmly. She moved as if they'd been dancing together for years, and the calmness in her face even with their proximity showed him that she trusted whoever that boy was.

Even as he was intrigued by the friendship he'd been unaware existed, he marveled at how sad of a dance it was. It was a simple waltz, but the gestures as the dance progressed spoke for themselves; at times he pulled her too close, and at other moments, he could see how she held him to her securely. Somehow, he knew that the push-and-pull game they had was intentional, and surely enough, when the bridge of the song came, his suspicions were proven to be true.

The man turned her, stepping back and watching her spin. The skirt of her dress moved like water, and when she stopped, Damon found himself transfixed by more than just the illusion created by the fabric. Her eyes glistened, not just with emotion from dancing, but for fear of losing someone. The man took a step as if he was going to turn, and as if to stop him, she ran at him. She jumped with her arms outstretched, wrapping them around his neck as he turned with her hanging onto him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his body, a gesture that was not so much sexual as it was desperate, and with a pained expression, he pushed her off.

Not giving up, she ran at him again, and this time, he was expecting her. Had it not been for the fact that he was hypnotized, Damon would have missed the moment the man bent down and lifted her up, holding her at arm's length above him for all to see. She looked like an angel, arms stretched out to her sides and legs trailing behind her, a beauty the audience could only dream to touch, a beauty Damon himself had been dreaming of touching. The man lowered her and the song started to end, the music dying out into piano. She held his face between her hands, shaking her head, "No", and with one final caress along her cheek, he twirled her away and walked off the stage, finally leaving her alone.

There were several moments of silence before the crowd started to applaud, some people cheering (specifically Elena and Stefan) and others nodding appreciatively for the performance. Her partner ran back onto the stage and hugged Mikaela warmly, burying his face in her hair to say something. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded, her back to Damon as the stranger lifted her up and spun them around in a circle. With wide grins, they held hands and bowed before being surrounded by their friends. Mrs. Lockwood announced something over the microphone about Mikaela and "Gavin" hosting a charity event for cancer research, and encouraged those who were feeling generous to feel free to donate to the cause.

Through all of it, all Damon could do was watch. Elena threw her arms around the girl in a congratulatory hug, Mrs. Lockwood made her way to the pair to give her own words of praise, and even Stefan, who had killed her only weeks before, was able to warmly give her a pat on the shoulder without worrying. Both Gavin and Mikaela simply smiled, nodding humbly and giving thanks whenever it was needed. Damon watched her laugh, watched her talk with the people she'd lived her whole life with, and felt a strange sense of loneliness.

Just as the rush started to die down and he was seriously considering leaving, she met his eyes. Her wide grin lowered and her shoulders relaxed as she smiled warmly, gesturing for him to join them. He shook his head shortly, not sure why he was rejecting the invitation, but not knowing how to go into that group and act like just another friend, either. Apparently sensing something, she squeezed her dance partner's arm, whispered something to him, and made her way in his direction.

"Was it worth missing me these weeks?" she asked teasingly as she approached, stopping two feet away from him. "I wanted it to be a surprise." People were still looking admiringly in her direction, which meant that as she spoke to him, eyes were on him, too. They were public, and yet her eyes sparkled as if they were in private. Deciding to follow her lead, he shrugged and crossed his arms.

"It... may have been worth it," he admitted reluctantly, earning himself a smile. "I wasn't expecting that."

"I only told you about a dance three times before I gave up on you figuring out I was going off to practice," she stated, rolling her eyes with a smirk. "Other than that, it was between Mrs. Lockwood, Gavin and me."

"And who's that person, anyway?" he asked, nodding in Gavin's direction. "I don't think I've seen him before." Mikaela sighed and raised a brow.

"That's Gavin," she said unnecessarily. "He's been my dance partner for years, and the last time he was in town, you compelled him to go after the Gossip Brigade at a party."

"Did I really?"

"You should keep better track of the people you compel."

He shrugged again. "Not exactly a priority." His eyes fell on her lips and he nodded appreciatively. "Red's a good color on you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but smiled. "Figures you would think so," she said, the allusion to his diet not lost on him. Sensing an opening, he held out an arm for her and nodded towards the mansion.

"Shall we?"

Suppressing a smirk, she pretended to think. "I don't know, that would be terribly public, don't you think?" she commented teasingly. "It would be a scandal if anyone knew of the age difference." He raised a brow and leaned closer.

"Did I tell you that you were amazing out there?" he asked, whispering the words into her ear. Her skin prickled and she sighed, resting her hand on his arm.

"Flattery is a dirty tool," she informed him. All he could do was smile smugly as he led her into the party, trying his best to not let it show that her hand on his arm had to be the most perfect sensation he'd had in a very, very long time.

* * *

**Several Hours Later:**

Another glass of whiskey and another deep breath closely followed by a glass of champagne did nothing to calm the hunger. Every voice and every heartbeat called to him, beckoned him to sit down and quench his thirst, satisfy his hunger. Stefan gripped the edge of the table until he heard it crack, then stepped away. Nobody was in the room to witness the act, but with his hearing, the entire house could have been sitting around him, and it would have made no difference. Suddenly he heard her laugh, and as if guided by supernatural force, his legs started carrying him to her.

She stood on the car loop in front of the manor, a black shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders against the night chill. Her back was to him, but there was no mistaking her scent. Damon stood next to her, a hand held lightly to the small of her back as they spoke. Stefan ducked behind a pillar and watched silently, waiting to see what would happen. After a moment of silence, Damon pulled the girl to him and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Stefan stared with wide eyes as his brother took Mikaela's hand and led her to his car, the gesture too intimate to be directed at the girl. He felt his gums turn sore as his fangs threatened to come out, the smell of her blood carried to him on a light breeze.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He jumped and turned around, surprised to see none other than Bonnie standing next to him, her eyes fixed on Damon's car.

"Enough is enough," she said gravely, and looked up at him. "We need to do something before this goes too far." She gestured for him to follow her, and grateful for the distraction from his inner hunter's current obsession, he obediently followed.

* * *

**At the Boarding House:**

There wasn't much that could be hidden from a mirror's unforgiving gaze.

Mikaela stood in front of the vanity in Damon's room, looking over herself with searching eyes. She felt that there should have been some sort of outward indication that something had changed inside, but there wasn't. There were no scars from the torturing session from a couple of weeks before, no bags under her eyes to indicate that she had hardly slept since the incident, and absolutely not a single tell tale hair out of place to give away the turmoil she had going on inside.

"There's plenty of hot water," Damon said, gesturing to the shower. "I'll leave if it makes you feel more comfortable." He was still wearing his black slacks, but had already shed his socks, shoes, and shirt to settle down at home. She was still fully dressed, but under his gaze, she could have been naked for the nerves she was feeling. When she didn't answer, he raised a brow. "You know, this is the part where you normally say something-"

"I don't want to do this anymore."

The words were out before she could stop them, shooting into the air between them and hitting him like a bag of sand. Her hands started to shake and she set her jaw, trying to gather her strength. Her heart felt like it was going to break out of her chest, but she needed to say it. Enough was enough. She watched as his expression went from blank to confused and settled on angry as he crossed his arms and stared her down.

"That's what you followed me to my room to tell me?" he asked, his tone icy. Quickly she realized what he understood and opened her mouth to explain, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand and advanced forward menacingly. "Just get out. If that's all you have to say, then-!"

"Wait!" she barked, stomping her foot. Her outburst had the desired effect, because he stopped his ranting. Taking a deep breath, she glared at him. "Don't push me out like you do to everyone else. What I mean is that I don't want to sneak around anymore."

This time, his expression stayed blank. "... Oh."

He was standing only a yard away, and yet it felt like they were miles apart without her insight into what he was thinking. For a couple of seconds they stayed like that, her staring at him, and him staring at her face, but not her eyes. The silence dragged on, and she felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest from the suspense.

"Oh?" she repeated, looking at him expectantly. "Your vocabulary leaves much to be desired." He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

"You know, you can't expect much. I had a speech planned," he began, shaking his head. "I wanted to wait until you'd relaxed, and _then_ corner you for a discussion about 'us'." Even though he hadn't said anything meaningful yet, the glint in his eyes was enough for her. It shouted "Yes!" and that was enough to make her heart race, in a much more different way than it had been only seconds before. She lifted herself up onto the vanity and held out her arms for him in invitation, an invitation he didn't waste a second in accepting.

He braced his hands against the cabinet as he leaned forward, their foreheads and noses touching. She smiled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders just as he smirked. "Does that mean you want me to be your boyfriend?" he asked quietly, a hint of laughter behind the question. She rolled her eyes. The term "boyfriend" didn't seem to fit; it fit with teenage boys and games and things that didn't mean much, but not with Damon.

Not saying anything, she pressed her lips to his and pulled him closer. He gripped her shoulders tightly and held her against him as they kissed, gently only at first. In almost a blink of an eye the electricity she'd ignored for so long erupted between them, and driven by forces much stronger than them, their desperation took control.

With a growl he gripped her hair and turned her head, allowing him access to her neck. She couldn't suppress a groan as he trailed rough kisses up her skin, stopping to bite lightly around her ear. All she could hear was his heightened breathing and her pounding heart and all she could see was darkness as she closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensations. Without warning he lifted her up and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on tightly as she felt them move across the room.

She yelped as he let her go, only to fall back on the soft surface of his bed. The ceiling was all she could see before he moved over her and blocked her line of sight. His hands were braced next to her head and his knees framed her hips, holding him just above her without making any contact. She reached up and framed his face, running her fingers down his cheeks. He was frowning, and she wished she could wipe the expression away from him forever.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice sounding breathier than she'd intended. He took a deep breath to focus before answering.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, careful that each word was pronounced clearly, although the meaning wasn't. He was asking about more than one thing, and she knew it: their relationship, her feelings for him, telling the others about it, and then there was finishing what she had a feeling they were starting... Swallowing to clear her dry throat, she forced a small smile to hide her nerves.

"After that... thing with the tomb vampires," she said, pausing when she noticed him growl, "... I couldn't sleep. The only nights I didn't have nightmares were the nights I spent with you." She locked her hands behind his neck and played with the curls there affectionately. "I don't think I've been more sure of anything in a long time." Still he hesitated, and she pulled him down so their faces were closer. "Damon... I know what I want, and it's you. I _want _this."

The moment she said the words, the lights flickered off and the windows flew open, but they didn't notice. Not waiting another moment he dove down, the sheer joy at hearing the words making him want to kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Her hands explored his chest and gripped him to her as they started to cross the boundaries that had been up even when they'd started their physical relationship- both the physical and emotional boundaries.

"I love you," he murmured against her neck, pulling the pins out of her hair to let it be free. She felt her breathing catch and her hair stand on end, unable to believe what she was hearing. He chuckled and shook his head, then held her to him. "God, I love-"

The door slammed open and the lights burst to life. Unlike when the lights had gone out, this time they both froze and looked towards the door to see what- or rather, who- was interrupting them. Stefan, Elena and Alaric stood in the doorway, all still dressed up from the Miss Mystic Pageant, and all wearing equal expressions of both shock and perplexity. Elena held up a hand and walked away, apparently unable to bear the sight she'd been met with. Alaric stared at them with raised brows, jaw hanging open as he searched for words to say. Stefan looked from Mikaela to Damon and back again, and sighed. Mikaela and Damon stayed frozen, not sure how to proceed in the given situation.

Stefan was the first to speak. "You two, parlor," he said, motioning at them. "It's... important." With that, he and Alaric walked down the hall, leaving the door ajar. Suddenly she felt cold, and as he started to pull away and get off the bed, she grabbed onto his arm.

"Don't," she said quietly, getting on her knees. He was already standing next to the bed, a frustrated look on his face. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. "Let's just... ignore them!"

"It could be important," he said reluctantly, and she knew what he meant: it could have to do with the tomb vampires, the vampires that had hurt her. He ran the back of his hand along her cheek and smiled. "Believe me, I'd much rather stay up here and pretend they didn't exist." She looked past him at the open door, and wondered why it seemed so foreboding to her. Before she could make up her mind, he lifted her off the bed and carried her to the hallway. A shriek escaped her before she could stop it, and he laughed as he set her down on the cold floor. He took her hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

"Don't be scared," he said, winking. "I've got your back, Twinkle Toes."

* * *

**Parlor:**

Elena waited on a couch with her heart in her throat and a handkerchief ruined by her fidgeting in her hands. Her skin still prickled with the shock of what she had just seen- Mikaela and Damon, of all people, expressing more passion towards each other than she'd imagined either of them could feel for each other, at least, in a form other than hatred. There was something off about the image, especially when she reminded herself that Damon had been the one to kill Mikaela in August, leaving her hospitalized for two weeks and permanently changing the already-strange girl.

"You okay?" She looked up as Bonnie stood in front of her, a notebook held in her hands. Bonnie's expression was guarded, but Elena could see that she was just as nervous as she was. She shook her head, and for a moment, she saw a look of sympathy cross her best friend's face. As the sound of footsteps reached them, the moment ended and everyone in the room turned to face the entrance.

Damon and Mikaela walked into the parlor, hand-in-hand as if they were always like that. Damon smirked and Mikaela looked uncomfortable, not with the hand-holding, but with all of their eyes on them. Damon held up their hands and made a sound of mock surprise. "Oh wow, would you look at that!" he exclaimed sarcastically, and rolled his eyes. "This had better be important."

Alaric, Stefan and Elena all turned to look at Bonnie, who stood in front of a table. The witch cleared her throat and gripped the open notebook tighter. "You guys might want to sit down," she suggested. "This is..." Before she could finish, Mikaela cut her off.

"What the hell is he doing here?" she demanded, pointing to the couch. Elena had all but forgotten that Tyler was there, and with good reason, considering how quiet he was being. Their classmate sat on the couch, eyes staring off into space as if in a trance- which he was, thanks to a spell Bonnie had looked up and cast on him at the pageant. Mikaela let go of Damon's hand and stood in front of Tyler, holding his face and examining it.

"I put him in a trance for a little while," Bonnie answered, a frown crossing her face. "Please, just give me one minute to explain." If Mikaela was already getting upset, they had much to worry about for how she was going to react when they finished telling her what they needed to. After a moment's hesitation, she stepped away from her ex-boyfriend and sat down on an empty couch, quickly followed by Damon sitting as close to her as possible. Bonnie cleared her throat and picked up a bracelet from the table, the damned bracelet that had gotten hem into that whole mess.

"Do you know what this is?" Bonnie asked. Mikaela shook her head, looking between the bracelet, Bonnie and Tyler impatiently. "It's a talisman for a binding spell."

"Between what?" she asked. Bonnie had explained to Elena earlier that binding spells were mostly used to bind spells to objects, a fact they hadn't been aware of when they'd performed the spell. Elena saw the witch brace herself before answering the question.

"Not 'what', 'who'," she corrected. "Several weeks ago, Elena and I did what we thought was an 'encouragement spell'. Its purpose was to encourage the subject to cross some bridges with people he or she already had a connection with. In theory, it was supposed to only last forty-eight hours, twenty-four for the subject, and twenty-four for the people who shared a connection, and nothing major was supposed to happen. It was just going to be a nudge in the right direction." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second to collect herself. "It didn't turn out the way we expected. It didn't finish stop after forty-eight hours and kept on working over time, taking down more and more inhibitions and building more bridges."

Elena watched as Mikaela's expression slowly changed from confused and impatient to one of realization and horror. She got to her feet and balled her fists, jaw hanging open slightly as she looked from Bonnie to Elena in disbelief. "You didn't," she said quietly, shaking her head. "You couldn't have." Damon still looked confused, but his eyes were glued to the girl as she held a hand to cover her mouth and backed away. Bonnie took a step forward, but stopped when Mikaela pointed a finger at her.

"I swear, we didn't mean-"

"Don't," she warned. "Don't justify it. Just... Tell me. What needs to be done?"

Damon got to his feet, holding up his hands to stop the conversation. "Okay, what the hell is going on here?" he demanded. "I, for one, have no idea what you two are talking-"

"They put a spell on me!" Mikaela yelled, her anger not directed at Damon, but at the two girls, who flinched. "On us! There are walls between everybody for a reason, and if you take those walls away, what's left is an irrational, unnatural relationship! They did the closest thing to a damn love spell that there is!"

He scoffed and shook his head. "That's impossible," he stated, turning to Bonnie. "You're not even half the witch that Emily was, and even she-"

"Think about it," Stefan cut off, giving Bonnie a break from being the focus of Damon's and Mikaela's combined emotions. "Damon, you killed her only a couple of months ago, and threatened to kill her countless times. Mikaela, you've hated him with passion up until a couple of weeks ago, and you even started dating Tyler again."

"Things changed," Damon argued. "Stuff happened-"

"Not enough!" Elena exclaimed, cutting in. "Mikaela, you know it's true. You always know these things. You'd just been alone for so long-!" To her surprise, Mikaela cut her off.

"Shut up!" she snapped. "Elena, just shut up! I don't want to hear it! Bonnie, tell me how to break the damn spell."

At her demand, Bonnie held the bracelet out to Mikaela. "Everyone affected by the spell has to touch the bracelet and pull it apart," she stated. "Then the emotional walls will come back, and everyone's feelings will go back to normal. Any damage will be undone." Elena watched the scene unfold with distress, her throat clenching up. The conversation wasn't going at all as she'd hoped, but at least Stefan and Alaric were there for back-up in case Damon went on a rampage. Mikaela took the bracelet from Bonnie and looked down at it, jaw light as she gritted her teeth.

"You picked flowers from around the boarding house," she said quietly, shaking her head. "And you involved Tyler, after everything." Without another word, she took Damon's hand and led him over to Tyler. Just as she took his hand and hooked one of his fingers around the bracelet, Damon stopped her.

"Wait a second," he said, putting both hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him with eyes glistening with frustrated tears, and leaned into him hand as he cupped her cheek. "I know what I feel. You know me."

Elena could hardly believe what she was seeing as Mikaela lifted her hand and settled it over Damon's. "Then let's prove them wrong," she said quietly, imploring him to understand. "I feel that this is real, and I want them to be wrong just as much as you do, but until we break this spell, I'll never know for sure."

"It is," he insisted. He held her face between his hands tightly, begging her to believe him. "Mikaela, it is! It's crazy and irrational, but dammit, it's real!" He was almost shaking her, but nobody dared move forward to intervene. The tears spilled out of her eyes and she took his hand into hers, lowering it to her side.

"I hope so," she whispered, and Elena saw between their bodies as Mikaela settled both of their hands over Tyler's. Mikaela's bottom lip quivered and she pulled him close to her in a desperate hug, closing her eyes. "Dear God, I hope that you're right!" All that Elena could see was a tiny jerk of her neighbor's body as she pulled the bracelet apart, and then stepped away from the vampire.

Silence descended upon the room as everyone waited to see what would happen. The flowers that had been used to make the bracelet were scattered over the rug at Tyler's feet, and as Mikaela and Damon looked around, nothing seemed different. There were no unexplained light surges like there had been earlier, no gusts of wind, no bursting of flames... The only indication that anything had changed was Mikaela stepping back, shoulders stiff and jaw tight.

Stefan and Alaric stepped forward, prepared to intervene if necessary, but Damon was frozen to the spot, watching Mikaela as she turned away from him and made her way out of the parlor. Bonnie called after her and Elena stood up to stop her friend, but there was no need. Mikaela stopped in the entryway and looked back at them, a calm, collected expression on her face.

"You two." She looked at Elena, and then at Bonnie. "I hate you guys... so much." Elena opened her mouth to speak, and Mikaela stopped her with a glare. "Trust me, you don't want to say anything, Elena. Go to hell, both of you." Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her.

Elena felt like she'd been slapped across the face, and as she looked at Bonnie, she saw that her best friend's eyes were blurred with tears as well. Stefan moved next to her and pulled her into a hug, but for once, her boyfriend's embrace provided no comfort to her. She dared look up at Damon, and the moment she did, she regretted it. He looked at her with disgust, and without any words being exchanged, she knew who he was seeing with such loathing: Katherine. She lowered her head, and when she looked back up, he was gone.

Alaric quietly muttered something about Mrs. Lockwood asking questions before taking Tyler away, and after a couple of minutes, Stefan said he was going to check on his brother, leaving Elena and Bonnie alone. They looked at each other, and Elena allowed the tears to flow.

"We really made a mess, didn't we?" she asked, although there was no need. They'd known her for all their lives, and while Mikaela had never looked at them with such disgust, she knew that they deserved it. In those few moments before they'd broken the spell, they'd seen her happier than she'd been in years- happier than she'd been when she'd been with Tyler, and that had been a time they'd thought to be the Golden Age. When they'd been waiting for Mikaela and the two men to break the bracelet, Elena had found herself praying that the spell being lifted wouldn't have changed anything. Maybe leaving them as they had been would have been such a bad thing... Would it have been so terrible for Mikaela to love a monster, when that monster loved her the way that Damon did?

* * *

**Diane's House:**

Stefan started up the porch steps to knock on the front door, knowing that Mikaela was at her mother's house because her car was parked out front. The lights were off and the doctor's car was missing, which meant that only Mikaela was home, and possibly Benji. As he moved forward, however, he heard her heartbeat coming from the backyard. Hell, he could have heard her heart specifically from a mile away- that was what happened when the predator in him chose a person. He circled the house and found her sitting on a porch swing, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

She didn't look up as he sat down next to her, far enough that she had her space, but not so far that he was hanging off the side. The moon could be seen above the trees, a tiny sliver of white light nestled in between the stars. After a couple of minutes of silence, Stefan turned to her, looking at her carefully.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked. She swallowed and her lip quivered, but she nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" She didn't answer at first, but quickly her face twisted in emotion and she shook her head, covering her face with her hands. Her body started to shake and he moved over, putting his arm over her shoulders. The instinct was entirely human and he was surprised it could surface when he was fighting the urge to drink human blood, specifically her blood, so strongly. She took several deep breaths and managed to calm down slightly, but didn't pull away from him. The embrace wasn't romantic or predatory, it was simply comforting, and seemed to be exactly what she needed, because she didn't move away for a long time.

"I was happy," she whispered once she'd relaxed somewhat. Stefan couldn't help resting his hand on top of her head, hoping the touch would help. "I was so happy to let someone in- to let _him_ in, as crazy as it sounds."

"It's not crazy to want somebody," he assured her. "... If it's any help, he was a better person with you." She chuckled.

"It wasn't real," she whispered, shaking her head. "He doesn't love me that way."

"Do you really think so?"

She stayed quiet before nodding. "The wall the spell took down was Katherine," she said, and judging by the shake in her voice, that was the reason behind her tears. "The moment the spell came down, I looked at him and got an image of her. We've been together in secret for weeks, and not once did he think of her when he was with me." She took a deep breath, but her body started to shake again. "It wasn't real for him."

"I'm sorry." What else could he say? She nodded and rested her head on his chest.

"Yeah... Me, too." She sighed and he felt new tears soak into his shirt. "Can you make sure he's okay?" Stefan nodded. "And don't tell him I cried."

"I promise."

"... Thanks."

* * *

**Original Salvatore Estate:**

Stepping between the rubble and making sure his feet didn't get caught in the foliage, Damon walked through the ruins of his original home, looking around with searching eyes. He hadn't gone back since returning to Mystic Falls, and quite frankly, he didn't blame himself. Nothing remained of the home's original grandeur, and his emotional attachment to the place had all but faded away.

Anyone passing through would have thought it was a strange picture- him in nothing but a pair of slacks, walking through some ruins in the middle of the night, but then again, nobody could understand what he was going through. Hell, even he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing there. The girl he'd just fallen for had all but rejected him like a loaf of bad bread, and before he could follow her and fight for them, all spells be damned, _it _had happened.

He reached the spot where his room had once been and started sorting through the rocks. If the vision he'd had was any indication, it should have been buried somewhere close to the door- where the door had once been, that was. After a couple of minutes of digging, he found the box he'd only partially been expecting to find, and with shaking hands, lifted it out of the ground. It was no bigger than the palm of his hand, and yet as he brushed the dirt off of the dark mahogany surface, it felt like the box had the power to turn him inside out.

In a strange way, it actually did. As he undid the fastener and slowly lifted the lid, he braced himself for what he already knew what would be waiting inside. Nestled in the red velvet interior, shining up at him as if glowing in the dark, were two silver rings. One was a thick simple band, while the other had a thinner, more intricate design, and a pearl set into it. It was his mother's engagement ring, the one she had left behind for him to give to his wife. Next to it was the ring that Damon had had made for himself in his last year as a human, when he'd finally decided to give the engagement ring to a woman.

He pulled his ring out and looked it over. Up until that night, he'd forgotten that he'd hidden the rings, and had figured that his father had hidden all of his mother's memoirs. Taking a deep breath, he turned the ring over and looked inside. He heaved a sigh and dropped the ring back in the box once he read the message, snapping the box shut.

He needed to find Mikaela, and tell her what he knew. He needed to tell her what her trigger was, show her what he had found, and let her know what had happened when she'd told him how she felt. There was so much to say, and yet too much between them. The spell had apparently been behind her feelings, but not his. He'd meant what he'd said, and hell, he knew that she'd meant what she'd said, too. If she couldn't recognize that, then he'd make her, starting with forcing her to spend time with him. He knew she had a tendency to avoid him, and he wouldn't let her. Then again, he was certain she wouldn't need much convincing, not when he showed her the rings and what was inscribed inside his.

_D.E. Amore Eterno._

Apparently more than one spell had been broken that night, because suddenly, the blanks in his past were starting to fill, and with images of a green-eyed woman he'd intended to have as his wife. With a plan in mind and his lost memories returning, he slowly made his way home.

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Don't worry, the gloom and doom won't carry on for long. Everyone bounces back, they're not stay-in-a-rut kind of people!**

**Let me know what you guys think about the new developments! Reviews help me get the chapters out faster, and considering I'm going to have more free time now that college and the 18-credit semester is over...! **

**Thanks for reading guys, please let me know what you think, and have safe, happy winter holidays!**


	31. Time to Talk Or Not

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys :D! I hope you all had wonderful holidays, and that those of you who have started school are doing well this new semester! I hadn't checked my new email account in a really long time, and when I finally checked the reviews for this story, I was elated to see how many of you sent me your feedback! Thanks so much guys, your support means so much to me!**

**The story's going to take a turn with this chapter. I need you all to let me know what you think, because I'm taking a bit of a risk here, and I need your valuable opinions.**

**Currently in Spain for the semester guys, so if I'm a bit delayed with the next chapter, please forgive me!**

* * *

"Elena's going to start asking questions about you cutting class at some point or another."

Stefan shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. "When I reach that bridge..."

Mikaela and Stefan sat across from each other in front of the Mystic Grill, each with a cup of coffee for breakfast. Stefan was dressed ready for school while Mikaela looked more like she was ready for a day of relaxation with a pair of black leggings and a t-shirt. His backpack leaned against her duffel bag on the ground next to the table, flyers about upcoming Founder's Day events stuffed into the outer pockets. Stefan was going to be helping with the float and Mikaela was supposed to perform at some point on Founder's Day, but otherwise, they were happily cutting class and forgetting all other responsibilities.

Mikaela added another sugar to her coffee and stirred. "How are the cravings?" she asked. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Same as yesterday, unfortunately," he admitted. "About a seven on a scale of one to ten."

"And Elena...?"

"Still doesn't have a clue."

She nodded understandingly. "At least Damon won't tell," she said. Stefan nodded gratefully.

"At least."

After a minute, he nodded at her. "And how are you doing? Scale of one to ten?" he asked. She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, managing a half smile.

"Two weeks after? I've gone down to a six," she said honestly. "On the plus side, I'm being trained mercilessly for auditions."

"Auditions?" he repeated, surprised with the new information. She nodded.

"Top-secret auditions I'd rather the fine citizens of Mystic Falls know nothing about," she clarified. He nodded, accepting the condition that he couldn't tell anybody, and she continued. "I'm auditioning for scholarships in dance. I applied for one, and my paperwork has already been cleared and approved. All I need to do is convince the committee with my performance, and I'll get the scholarship. A coach is helping me get back into shape, so hopefully, I'll pass."

He smiled and raised his brows. "Mikaela, that's great! Why haven't you told anybody?"

She chuckled humorlessly and finished her coffee. "I was going to tell everyone the night of the Miss Mystic Pageant. Unfortunately, Elena and Bonnie told me their news first, so..." she trailed off, not needing to repeat what had happened that night. He sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said for what had to be the hundredth time since the incident. "If it's any consolation, he's not doing too well, either."

She scoffed. "I find that surprising." Catching onto the bitterness in her tone, Stefan decided to offer up an idea he'd been thinking about.

"What if I gave you a window so that you could talk to him?"

At that she blinked and focused her attention on him. "What kind of window?"

"Tonight. I'll leave to visit Elena, and you go to the boarding house. I'll head to Elena's house when he's settled down, so by the time you get there, you should have a window of an hour or so." He saw her beginning to frown, but refused to let her give up. "Mikaela, come on. You guys need to talk about what happened."

Not even bothering to try and hide the fact that she was deflecting, she checked the time on her cell phone and stood up. "I'm going to be late for training. I'm out of here," she announced, pinning some dollar bills under her coffee cup. Stefan followed her and picked up her duffel bag.

"Think about it," he pressed, and held up his hands defensively when she glared. Before he could think twice about it, he reached out and gave her a quick one-armed hug. She tensed for a moment before relaxing and returning the gesture.

"Thanks, Stefan." With that, she took her bag and walked to her car, waving as she did so.

Stefan turned around, not wanting her to see the veins darkening around his eyes or the fangs threatening to come out. He picked up his backpack and walked quickly in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between him and the girl as possible.

He'd lied: he was at an eight on a scale from one to ten, and yet, no matter how much he wanted to stay away, he couldn't. He was hungry, and the most he could bring himself to do was not eat her when she was within sight.

Even that was proving to be more difficult than he'd anticipated.

* * *

**Diane's House:**

Damon watched from the tree line as Elena willingly set herself on a silver platter. The doctor's car was in the drive way and Mikaela's car could easily be in the garage, but he knew that it wasn't; he'd been standing out there for several hours, watching and waiting. Sure, it could be considered stalking based on human standards, but he wasn't human, and to him, it was necessary. He had to resist the urge to laugh as Elena raised her hand and knocked on the front door.

From his position, he heard the noise in the house that she couldn't hear on the front porch.

"_Who is it?" Benji asked. Judging by how calmly he was speaking, Diane was close by. _

"_Elena Gilbert," Diane answered tiredly. She sounded like she was moving around, and the clanging of dishes led him to assume she was in the kitchen. Benji snorted._

"_Go hex her or something."_

"_That's unethical." _

"_So is casting love spells, but that didn't stop them." _

"_I can't just hex her, Benji."_

"_If you can't behave and don't want to misbehave, then I'll handle it."_

_A chair scraped back as Benji stood up. "Don't kill her," Diane called boredly, settling down in the chair he'd left vacant._

Despite the exchange, within a minute Benji was opening the front door and looking at Elena with a polite smile. "Can I help you?" he asked. Elena cleared her throat and forced a smile.

"Hi Benji, I was wondering if-"

"Mikaela isn't here," he interrupted. Elena sighed and started to fidget with her hands.

"That's what Dr. Greene said yesterday, and last week, but she hasn't been in school for two weeks," Elena hesitatingly pointed out. Benji raised his brows, but Elena didn't back down. "I need to talk to her."

"I don't care about what you _need_, child," Benji informed her, that same smile in place. "I only have two women's _needs_ to look after, and you aren't either of them."

"But if I could just-!"

"Don't you get it?" Benji exclaimed, laughing outright with a grin that was anything but humorous. "You've meddled with things that shouldn't be meddled with! Deal with the consequences like an adult, and leave us alone."

Elena stepped forward, her back straight with determination. "I'm not leaving until I talk to her!" she stated, raising her voice to match the vampire's. She moved forward as if going to force her way into the house, and Damon held his breath to see what Benji would do to stop her.

He didn't stop her. Instead of pushing her out or blocking her way like Damon had expected him to, he grabbed Elena by the neck and pulled her inside, slamming her against the wall. Elena cried out and in an instant Diane was there, looking at the scene with alarm. Benji sneered, knowing the girl was afraid. "Spoken like a true Petrova."

"Benji, let her go," Diane warned. Damon watched from the tree line with wide eyes, shocked at how violent the vampire had become in only a matter of seconds. Benji chuckled darkly.

"She wanted to come inside," he said. Damon could hear Elena's erratic heartbeat, but couldn't bring himself to move from the trees. If Benji's unpredictable behavior was any indication, Damon would only make matters worse, and he hadn't been invited in. Diane held up a hand to Benji's back.

"Let her go," she repeated. "She's nothing."

"She hurt her," he said quietly. "She betrayed her." Somehow, Damon got the feeling Benji wasn't just talking about Mikaela.

"I know," Diane said soothingly, rubbing Benji's back. "I know, Benji. But you have to let her go."

Benji's shoulders shook and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. After a moment, he looked up straight into Elena's eyes. "Mikaela's only human, and she's avoiding you," he said, his breathing down to a normal pace. "I, however, am vampire. We don't avoid; we eliminate the problem. Come back here again, and I can't guarantee I won't give in to my instincts." Waiting a moment to make sure the message sank in, he pulled her by her neck and guided her to the porch. He shook his head and let her go.

"I was wrong," he said with a hint of an apology in his tone. "... I'd thought you were different, but you're just like Katherine." With that, he turned around, leaving a gasping Elena on the porch and a quiet Diane in the doorway. The doctor looked at Elena for a moment before closing the door, locking it behind her.

Elena didn't stay on the porch for more than two seconds before getting to her feet and taking off, moving as quickly as she could to her own house and car. Damon waited until she had driven off before walking up to the front porch, wondering how he would fare when faced with the family. He didn't even have to knock before the front door opened.

"If you're looking for an apology, don't bother," Benji said, crossing his arms. "It's not happening."

Damon held up his hands. Apparently Benji had been aware of him watching. "It's not my business," he assured him. "I've been doing my fair share of avoiding to not do that." He lowered his hands and crossed his arms. "Is Mikaela home?"

He knew that she wasn't, but he wanted to see what the vampire would say. It was possible that he knew only the bare basics of the situation, just as it was equally possible that he knew every detail. If he knew that Damon had been stationed outside her house and had been keeping track of Mikaela's comings and goings, he was sure that Benji would gladly stake him on the spot.

Benji sighed and looked over his shoulder, then stepped away from the door. Diane walked up to the doorway, now wearing high heels and a jacket. She looked at Damon expectantly, cocking her head to the side. Damon couldn't help but notice that Mikaela made the same gesture herself.

"Good morning, Damon," she greeted. On Diane's standards, her flat tone was a friendly greeting. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Mikaela," he answered, crossing his arms. The woman made him nervous. "Is she here?"

"What do you want with her?" she asked calmly. He let out a short breath.

"There are some things that need to be said," he answered, bracing himself. "We've each had our space, and it's time to talk." He expected her to argue in her own cold, flat way, but to his surprise, she nodded.

"There's a dance studio an hour or so out of town, D'Angelo's." She looked at her watch. "Mikaela is going to be there any minute." She took a hold of the door, signaling the conversation was ending. "She might not be up for talking, but you should go to room 31-B anyways." Then she did something he didn't think he'd ever see her do: she smiled at him. With that, she closed the door, leaving a shocked, and very encouraged, Damon on the other side.

* * *

The dance studio was easy enough to find. It was a three-story redbrick building with a simple sign, and all along the second and third floors were walls of glass. He looked up as he pulled the car in, but he couldn't see any dancers through the windows. After parking, he made his way into the building, eyes peeled for Mikaela or her car.

Young people rushed through the halls, mostly teenagers and young university students, accompanied by parents and teachers. Some were leaving, chatting about how their performances had gone, while others seemed anxious, expecting something. He climbed up the stairs to the second floor, and found the grand majority of the people crowded in the hallway outside two glass doors. Not spotting anybody he recognized, he continued up to the third floor, which turned out to be completely empty. Just as he was about to turn around and search the second floor, a door opened.

It took him a moment to recognize the smiling twenty-something-year-old who made his way towards him, an excited look on his face. "Hey, you missed our couple's practice!" he called, and that was when Damon remembered. The boy was Mikaela's dance partner, Gavin. He forced a smile back, hoping that if he pretended to be friendly, the boy could help him. "You here to see Kaela?"

"Yeah, I think I forgot what room she's supposed to be in," he admitted sheepishly, deciding to play along. Lies, of course: he just wanted to find out what the hell Mikaela was doing there. Gavin simply gestured for him to follow him and led him down the hall. In the back of his mind, Damon wondered how it was that the boy could walk with complete confidence while wearing black tights and ballet shoes.

"Does she know you're coming?" Gavin asked, pulling Damon out of his thoughts. He shook his head and the dancer's smile grew wider. "It's better that way. She tends to get nervous when she knows someone's watching." They reached a door and Gavin pushed it open. Rather than follow him inside, Gavin waved good-bye and stepped back into the hallway. "Sorry, got a class to give. Good seeing you again."

Damon forced a polite smile and nodded before turning around to see where he was. The room was a dance classroom with shiny hardwood floors and a metal beam running along the wall, but no wall of windows like he'd expected. When he looked at the wall to his right, however, he was surprised to find a wall of one-way looking glass between his room and an adjacent room identical to his. The lights in his room were off, but the other room needed absolutely no electric lighting. The sun flooding in through the two walls of windows was enough to make everything crystal clear.

The classroom seemed almost empty, but a man stood with his back to Damon, looking at his watch. The man snapped his fingers. "Again," he said, his foreign accent dripping with polite authority.

Damon felt a thrill of excitement as he saw Mikaela sit up from her position against the wall, stretching as she did so. She was dressed in black leggings, a black long-sleeve and a short dancing shirt, the fabric flowing as she moved. Her hair was tied into a messy bun, but even so, she looked beautiful to him. "Is break over already?" she asked jokingly. Apparently the man made a humorous expression because she grinned and nodded. "Fine, sir. Press play."

The man pressed a button on his remote control, and music started to play. She rolled her shoulders, and Damon wished he could be there in that room with her. She was nervous, he could tell. It was a simple piano number, and with a sense of fear, she took position.

"Strong stance," the man advised, and she immediately strengthened her position. "Good. And..."

On cue, she began. She seemed to float across the floor as she moved, legs and feet going where they needed to as if they were made to make the motions. She leaped, and the jump was flawless; when she landed, she continued dancing fluidly; when he caught sight of her face, her expression was calm and serene. She belonged on that hardwood floor, embodying beauty and grace. Then she stopped and started to spin, in complete control of her movements at first.

In only a second she was on the floor, hands holding her upper body high enough that she didn't hit her head, but not enough to hide what had happened. She'd messed up a perfectly good dance. The man sighed and paused the music.

"Kaela," the man began, "you have only two weeks-"

"I know," she cut off. "Believe me, sir, I know." She wasn't angry, but it was clear she knew the gravity of the situation. Damon, however, didn't understand what the big deal was. It was a dance practice, not the Olympics. The man sighed again and held out his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked. There was genuine concern masked in his voice, and when she looked up at him, Damon could see that she sensed it. When she took his hand, he knew that she appreciated the gesture.

"I'm fine," she assured him, getting to her feet. "Just... Same problem."

"They aren't going to forgive that in New York," he said. Judging by his tone, he'd said the phrase several times before. "Are you sure you still want to audition for next semester? You could always apply for August-" She shook her head firmly, stopping him. Damon felt his stomach drop as he connected the dots, and at her next words, he felt his hopes fall apart.

"Mr. Smith, I need to get the hell out of this town," she said honestly, running a hand through her hair. "This scholarship is my way out. I _need _to do this."

The man nodded and squeezed her shoulder. "Then you need to go sort out whatever it is that's distracting you..." But Damon didn't stay to hear what Mr. Smith said next. Without another thought he turned around and ran out of the building, not bothering to move at human speed. If she wanted to leave, she could go ahead and leave to New York, South Africa or some isolated mountain in the farthest pit of hell, but so help him, he wasn't going to make it easy for her.

* * *

Mikaela, although accustomed to sudden changes, had never come to appreciate the surprise of a locked door that had always been left open.

It was eleven o'clock at night, a cold front had just rolled in, and to top it all off, it was starting to rain. She pounded her fist against the front door, knowing full-well he could hear her because the lights were all on in the house. There was no way that the vampire in residence could be Stefan, because she'd sensed him as he'd gone to visit Elena only a half hour before. She'd decided to take her dance coach's advice and use her window to talk to Damon: she couldn't continue holding out, not letting him know how she felt. She wasn't functioning the same, holding everything inside.

"Damon, it's me!" she called, stepping out from under the front porch and looking up at the second-floor windows. Lights were on, and there was movement. It could have been the TV, but she swore she saw him standing by the window. Mustering up her determination, she cupped her hands around her mouth and went on. "Damon, open the door! We need to talk!" Still there was no sound of the front door opening, nor did any shadows approach the window to indicate that he'd heard her. The rain was falling with more vigor and sinking through her white t-shirt (she'd left in such a hurry she hadn't bothered to grab a jacket), but just as she was about to start yelling again, she saw him approach the window and felt a surge of hope.

He closed the curtain with a firm jerk, effectively shutting her out. It was as if he'd slapped her across the face, and on cue, the wind started howling, bringing with it the cold that made her whole body shake. She waited for him to go back, to second-guess the metaphorical decision he'd made, but he didn't, and she knew he wouldn't, no matter how long she stood out there in the cold rain.

The Mikaela before the whole damn love spell would have walked away silently and acted as if nothing had happened, or maybe would have thrown an insult before stalking off. Without an ounce of hesitation, however, she found herself reaching down, grabbing a rock from the ground, and pulling back her arm to swing it at his window. Realizing what she'd almost done, she lowered her arm and took a deep breath.

A second later, she hurled the stone, watching impassively as it lit on fire halfway to its destination. She turned around before it could make contact with the glass and shatter the window, but she heard the sound as she started to walk away. The action brought her no satisfaction whatsoever, even if she'd made her point. She'd gone to tell him something important, and he hadn't even slammed the door in her face: he'd locked it and refused to grace her with his presence.

Well, he'd made it quite clear about where they stood, and she wasn't going to do anything else to try and correct him. He'd made his choice, so she made hers and, with a sense of false determination, marched home, swearing to not return to the boarding house for Damon again.

* * *

Wind flew in through the bedroom window, bringing with it a shower of glass shards and rain. Damon didn't move, watching as the attack showered onto the guest bedroom floor and onto the bed. He held little to no affection for the room, and the few items that were of value to him were safely out of range of Mikaela's fury. The rock she'd thrown rolled across the hardwood floor, rebounding from the wall a couple of inches until settling down, luckily far from flammable objects. The fire that had engulfed it went out after only a second, but Damon had seen it very clearly, and had not been surprised.

Under any other circumstances, he would have run out and given her a piece of his mind, and at some point would have confronted her about being able to use magic. Instead, he gathered up the things he'd gotten from the room in a wooden box and closed the door on his way out. Let Stefan handle the mess; after all, he _had _been the one to plan the whole encounter behind his back. His brother swore he was _so _sneaky, planning with Mikaela and thinking Damon wouldn't find out, but he forgot that most of his tricks, he'd learned from his older brother.

The clock read five past eleven, and as he pushed open the door to his room, he started to calculate how long it would be before _she _came. All week, she had been very punctual, a characteristic he remembered her to always possess. He kicked the door shut behind him, although there was no need: chances were Stefan had planned to give him and Mikaela at least a couple of hours alone, and would be spending the night at Elena's.

He dropped the box on his desk and started to empty its contents. The surface was crowded with old documents and notes he'd taken, among the documents a list he was almost certain Mikaela would kill him for having in his possession. He lifted up the legal-sized sheet and started to scratch off the objects he'd managed to get a hold of from the list, which, unfortunately, weren't too many. A brooch, an antique comb and a silver bangle had been hidden away in a wooden box, most likely nailed under the floorboards by Zach himself.

Finding all of the family heirlooms that Mikaela's father had left for her was turning out to be a bigger challenge than he'd expected. Half of the objects Zach had already recovered before his sudden death, but none of them were of any relevance to Damon. He'd thought he'd struck gold when he'd seen that Elizabeth's grimoire, journals and talismans were among the items on the list, but as it turned out, Benji had chosen a rotten time to kill Zach: there was no indication on the list as to where said items were, and seeing as Zach was dead and Joseph Greene was in a coma, Damon had nobody to ask.

After Bonnie had broken the spell, he'd had every intention of making sure Mikaela remembered what they'd had. After the events of the past week, however, things had changed. He'd wanted to find some way to locate Elizabeth's grimoire, or a journal to point him in the right direction to breaking the curse, now that things had changed and his memories were slowly returning. It was supposed to be his concrete proof that he still cared. Well, he'd found the list, and when he'd gone to tell her of his findings, he'd found out she was planning to run away from the city. On one part, he'd locked her out of the boarding house because he was upset, and wanted her to know what it was like to not have him around all of the time; on the other part, he had a much more important reason for not letting her into his house at night, a reason he was sure she would find beyond reasonable if she knew about it.

Hell, she would thank him if she knew the other reason why she was locked out of his house.

* * *

Benji was out on a date and her mother was already in bed by the time she returned home, opening the front door as quietly as she could. The rain had really started to fall down hard, bringing with it memories of Frederic that she preferred to live without, and had no way to distract herself from. Damon had been something of her fortress recovering from that incident: even just knowing he was there for her made her feel safe, and the past week had been one of the most emotionally tiring weeks she'd had in a long time.

The very day after the Miss Mystic Pageant (and the love spell being broken), she'd received a call from Mr. Smith, a dance coach willing to train her despite her months out of action. A part of her had been thrilled and had gladly accepted his help, but the rest of her was preoccupied with everything that was happening in the present. She was finding large blanks in her memory, was spontaneously being gripped with visions on a daily basis, Stefan was still not off the human blood, and avoiding Elena and Bonnie was becoming a full-time job. Taking into account the fact that she could possibly be moving to New York within a couple of weeks, her emotions were sky-rocketing all over the place. Something inside of her was changing and everything around her wasn't far behind, and she had no idea what to do about it or where to go.

Kicking off her boots by the door, she climbed up the stairs. Her fingers were numb from the cold as she ran them along the banister, but she didn't bother trying to warm them. A hot shower was exactly what she needed, nothing more, and nothing less. Her bedroom door was locked from when she'd sneaked out the window, but with a flick of her wrist, it opened obediently. Having magic again had its perks. She turned the light on in the traditional fashion and walked over to the vanity to grab her towel and pajamas.

The mirror caught her attention, and with slight reluctance, she looked at her reflection. Any color she'd gotten from her morning runs was gone, leaving her with an unhealthy white pallor and dark circles under her eyes. Her lips, normally much darker than her skin, were hardly distinguishable from the rest of her face save for their shape. She barely recognized herself, and balled her fists in anger. What the hell was she doing? She ripped the towel off of its place hanging from the vanity and turned around, feeling her foot catch on something.

She regained her balance and stood up, looking up at the mirror as she did so. Immediately she froze at what she saw, but before she could even open her mouth to protest, pain shot through the back of her head and she fell into the darkness.

* * *

The alarm went off at one twenty in the morning, signaling that it was time for him to put away the day's findings. Knowing how punctual she was, he quickly gathered up Randolph Knight's journals and Elizabeth's family heirlooms, dropping them all into a box and storing the box in the top shelf of his closet. He'd barely finished putting the box away when he heard the front door slam open, signaling her arrival. He rolled his eyes and closed the closet door with a sense of dread. It was going to be a long night.

He heard her footsteps as she made her way up the stairs, seemingly in no hurry whatsoever. She knew he was there, and she knew he would be waiting for her. He hated that she knew those things with such certainty, but there was nothing he could do about it, really. Unlike the other nights, as she stepped up to his door, he heard a distinct splashing of water hitting the hardwood, and wondered what on earth she'd done this time.

When she pushed open the door, he saw the source of the splashing and swore. Mikaela stood in the doorway, barefoot and soaked through with what could only be rain water. Her lips were blue and her hands shook uncontrollably, enough that he was certain she couldn't feel anything in her extremities. The source of the dripping was her hair, hanging over her shoulders and providing a steady drip of water for the hardwood floors. Her clothes clung to her every curve, but he tore his eyes away before they could look too much.

"Damn it, woman," he swore, turning around to search for a towel. "What the hell are you doing?"

She didn't move, simply hung her head and rubbed her arms as he walked to the bathroom. "I couldn't drive in this weather," she said coolly.

"And you thought it more fit to walk?"

"You've been avoiding me." Damon resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he walked over to her and handed her the towel. "We need to talk."

"About what?" he asked, crossing his arms. She used the towel to dry her arms before getting to work on her hair.

"It's about Elizabeth," she began. "I had a vision, and I think I've found a way-"

He groaned: she was doing it again! "Cut the crap," he interrupted, waving a hand and turning around. "Mikaela came by earlier."

She paused and looked up at him with confusion. "What are you talking about?" she asked. She sounded so honestly confused that he almost believed her; those unnaturally bright green eyes, however, were a dead give-away. He raised a brow.

"Elizabeth, I know it's you," he informed her. "Do us both a favor and just be yourself." After only a moment she sighed and shook her head.

"If you were as nice to me as you were to her, I wouldn't have to pretend," she said in defense. "I thought that once you got your memories back, you'd be the same." The act was gone, and along with it were the slumped shoulders and weakened state that Elizabeth seemed to associate to her host. Satisfied that she wasn't pretending to be Mikaela anymore, Damon walked over to his bed and laid down, locking his hands behind his head.

"Nope, I'm the same dick I've been for over a century now," he said with a shrug. "Sorry, sweetheart." He stared up at the ceiling, figuring that ignoring her would be a good course of action.

"'Dick'?" she repeated. "What's that?" Something about Mikaela's voice saying the word made him wish they weren't in the same room together. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"Just... forget I said that, okay?" he said. "And don't say that word anymore."

As if it was her room, she strolled over and plopped down onto the bed next to him to continue drying her hair. "Fine," she agreed with a shrug. "It sounds vulgar anyways." With a sigh she reached her arms up and stretched, arcing her back in a way that Damon had to drop his arm over his eyes to keep control. His male mind and male body were demanding things he couldn't provide, and it was clear that Elizabeth was playing his weaknesses for a reason.

"Damn it Elizabeth, what do you want this time?" he asked with a groan. He felt the bed sink as she moved so she was sitting by his shoulders, all the more reason to not look at her.

"What's Mikaela like?" she asked. The question was said in a casual enough tone, despite its strangeness. It was everything for him to not groan and throw her out the window. Why the hell was she torturing him, forcing him to think about the one girl he couldn't have at that particular moment? He had no idea why she'd started visiting him in the middle of the night, but he'd learned that asking questions and resisting her inquiries only made the visits longer and more difficult. So, he pleased her curiosity.

"She's proud," he started, choosing the first thing that came to his mind. "Not in the way that teenage easy lays pretend to be, but in the classic sense. She walks with her back straight as if she were royalty." He chuckled suddenly, remembering one of the last fights they'd had. She hated when he called her "princess". "Then again, when she fights, she fights like a wildcat. It's a fucking crazy contradiction."

And he loved it.

"How do you know she isn't faking it?" Elizabeth inquired. "The same way I did?"

He let out a breath and considered her question. "She knows who she is," he answered. "Sometimes she acts proud to hide, but really, I've never seen her ashamed of who she is. You were still figuring yourself out and didn't want anyone to know it, so you pretended to be confident even when you weren't."

"I'm surprised you remember so well," she commented quietly. He nodded.

"Me, too," he admitted. He couldn't help but smile. "Today I remembered when I first told you I'd decided to join the Confederacy."

She barked out a laugh and shook her head. "I pushed you into the lake!" she said, giggling. "You didn't talk to me all day!" She sighed happily. "I definitely prefer you being smitten with my host than that damn Petrova doppelganger," she admitted. Her laughter died away quickly at the serious change of topic, but still he felt the bed shaking, and that caught his attention. Lifting his arm from his face, he looked at her and was surprised to see that she was shaking violently from the cold.

"Shit, Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, shooting to his feet and pulling her up with him. "What the hell?" Her skin was cold and clammy, and as he led her to the bathroom by her arm, he felt her stumble to keep from falling. She cried out in protest, but he ignored her objections and threw her into the shower, turning on the water. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew that she needed to get warm.

The moment the pelts of cold water hit her she screamed in pain, but only a second later the hot water started to stream out. Even as the bathroom filled with steam and she pleaded with him to let her out, he held the door tightly shut, refusing to give in. If Mikaela were to lose any fingers in her lifetime, it wasn't going to be from frostbite, and not on his watch.

"Damn it, Damon!" Elizabeth yelled, slamming her palm against the glass. "Stop this!"

"Nobody told you to go freezing Mikaela's body," he said condescendingly. She growled and banged the glass again.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she yelled, this time with more ferocity. "And how the hell did I get in here?" Surprised by her tone, he looked through the glass, and felt his stomach drop. Her eyes were their natural dark color, no longer the green that was signature to Elizabeth. She glared at him and pushed against the door, fighting his strength.

"You need to warm up," he answered, trying to figure out how to explain the situation to her. Through the steam he saw her roll her eyes at his ignorance and grit her teeth.

"Get me a towel, now," she ordered. Recognizing her no-nonsense tone, he obeyed and moved at vampire speed to the towel closet, grabbing three towels, just in case. When he got back, she'd turned off the water and was peeling off her shirt. "Do you have a heating blanket?"

"No," he answered, unable to stop himself from looking at her bare skin. Apparently not bothered by his looking, she nodded and undid the button of her jeans.

"Turn around," she commanded. Even if her voice shook and he really didn't want to, he found himself doing as she said like a man possessed. Only seconds later, he heard the shower door opening and the sound of her wrapping a towel around herself. "I-I-I need some h-help."

He knew her. For all of her orders and control, she was human, and couldn't handle everything on her own. When he turned around she had a towel wrapped around her body, but she was shaking like a leaf and didn't seem like she was getting any closer to being warm.

"I n-need to get d-d-dry," she whispered. Without wasting a second, he wrapped a towel around her shoulders and dried off her legs, making sure he moved quickly to undo the damage he'd done. She gripped his arm when he finished, her legs slipping in the puddle at her feet.

"P-p-please-" she began, but he cut her off.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he assured her, scooping her up. She didn't protest as he carried her over to the bed and buried her under the covers, tucking the sheets in around her form to make sure no heat would escape. Once he was certain she was in a good place, he climbed in next to her, holding his body against her own bundled-up self. Her wet hair fanned out on the pillows beneath her, but he didn't care. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he held her still as her shaking slowly started to fade away.

"Thanks," she whispered after a couple of minutes. He nodded, and curled closer to her.

"Any time," he answered. She shifted so she could look back at him.

"Do I have to get hypothermia from now on to get you to talk to me?" she asked weakly. He chuckled and pushed her bangs back from her face affectionately.

"You can talk to me whenever you want," he said. She smiled, and when she looked at him with those sparkling eyes, he couldn't help himself: his lips simply met hers. He held a hand to her cheek and kissed her softly, not with passion or urgency, but as if it was the most natural thing to do with her. He pulled back and gave her a questioning look as she frowned.

"I didn't get to feel that," she muttered. He let out a laugh and leaned close so his cheek rested against hers.

"Don't worry, if you still want to later, we could try that again," he said reassuringly. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

"I would like that."

He couldn't help but smile as he listened to the sound of her drifting off to sleep, glad that he had her next to him again.

* * *

For once, she didn't wake up to the sound of an alarm, or to the rising sun. No, she woke up because of an overwhelming sense of excitement. Opening her eyes, she took in the details of Damon's room, and couldn't help but smile as she remembered what had happened last night. No, she still had no idea how she'd gotten to his room, or why she'd been soaked and freezing, but those questions seemed like minor details when she recalled what she'd felt from him when they'd laid down:

His feelings were still real.

Despite knowing he'd thought about Katherine when looking at her when the spell had broken, in the hours that they were together, the vampire didn't enter his mind, not even once. All he could think about was her, and all she felt from him was warmth, and not just the physical kind. He cared about her, and although she couldn't tell if it was love, whatever it was, it was genuine.

Surely enough, when she looked over her shoulder, he was still there, arm wrapped around her waist and head nestled in the crook of her neck. She wished she could look at him and feel that crystal clear feeling of perfection in his arms, but she didn't. When she looked at him, she felt a crazy mix of emotions: affection, doubt, respect, annoyance- the man awakened in her such a flurry of feeling, sometimes she wondered how she didn't explode from the intensity. It didn't help that they had such a colorful history, one she couldn't entirely bring herself to forget, and even to her, her feelings seemed crazy. Sometimes she wondered if she'd lost her mind. Even so, she knew one thing for certain: she was happier in that moment than she'd been in a while, and that was saying something.

She didn't want the moment to end, but when nature called, she had to answer. Trying to be as silent as possible, she lifted his arm off of her and slipped away, wrapping one of the towels around herself as she stood up. She wasn't cold anymore, but her body felt strangely sore, more so than it had in all of her days of training. Damn hypothermia. Trying not to groan, she walked over to the bathroom, dragging her feet over the chilly wooden floors.

After weighing the pros and cons of taking a shower, she decided to simply wash her face and take a shower at her own home, where she could put on a fresh change of clothes and not fear Damon walking in on her washing her hair. She turned on the faucet, grateful that warm water poured out, and started to wash up.

"Good morning."

She wasn't startled by the sound of his voice, and resisted the urge to smile smugly. He'd noticed her absence immediately. "Morning," she greeted, still bent over to wash her face. "Did you sleep alright?"

He didn't say anything at first, which struck her as strange. "Yeah... About that." Drying her face with a small towel by the sink, she looked up at his reflection in the mirror. She almost choked on her own breath. He stood in the doorway, a towel slung loosely around his waist and a serious frown on his lips. Something about seeing him shirtless so early in the morning set her heart into overdrive. When she thought about what the towel meant, she felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment. What the hell was he doing, prancing around without clothes on? "We need to talk."

"Could you put on some clothes first?" she muttered, diverting her gaze by bending forward to rinse out her mouth. "At least some pants, geez..."

"Mikaela, don't change the subject," he warned. She raised an expectant brow at him in the mirror.

"What subject?" she asked. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, an action that made him look so... awkward. Damon didn't do awkward. She braced her hands on the sink and waited for him to continue. He took a deep breath and went on.

"Look, I know you said you were ready, but if you weren't, that's fine," he said reassuringly. "It's normal to feel strange afterward." When she frowned in confusion, he held up his hands and stepped forward. "I don't regret it at all, Kaela. Being with you-"

"Damon, what the hell are you talking about?" she asked, finally turning around. He seemed to be dancing around something, and she simply wasn't understanding. As soon as the words left her mouth, his expression changed from one of discomfort to blatant dread, and as if in slow motion, the pieces started to fall into place.

"Oh no," he muttered, gritting his teeth and stepping back. She blinked and stared at him, willing the message he was projecting to suddenly change to one that didn't tear at every ounce of happiness she'd just recuperated. He cursed and punched the wall, but she didn't even flinch as shards of wood flew off the target of his rage. "Damn it, Elizabeth!" he yelled, turning his back and pacing furiously up and down the floor. "Damn it!"

"Oh God."

Not waiting for the telltale taste of bile, she shot for the toilet and lifted up the lid, just in time. Her stomach's contents flew out of her mouth, pouring into the toilet bowl with loud, painful heaves. She clenched the towel as close to her as she could, but no matter how much she covered herself, there was no changing the truth. When she finished, she mechanically flushed and walked back to the sink to wash her face, again.

The only sound she could hear was that of the sink's running water. She spent as much time as was reasonably possible rinsing out her mouth, but after two whole minutes, she had to face him. Clenching her fists, she dried off her face and stood up, bracing herself for the conversation.

When she walked back into the bedroom, he was already fully dressed in jeans and a dark t-shirt, his usual apparel. He held out some clothes he must have gotten from her room, and she silently accepted them, going to the closet to get dressed. In a minute she was out again, fully clothed and completely unprepared.

"Thanks," she said, handing him the towel. He nodded.

"No problem." They stood there in silence, neither looking at the other and both at a loss for what to say. Finally, Damon was the first to speak.

"I swear, I thought it was you," he said, and she knew he was being honest. "The lights were off, and I couldn't see her eyes, but I really thought it was you. I'm so-"

"She has to die." He clearly wasn't expecting those words, because he blinked and shut up. She cleared her throat and went on. "Elizabeth. She's gone too far. I need to break this curse and make sure she dies, for real this time." When he still didn't say anything, she set her jaw and gave him a steady look. "She's used my body, slept with the man I've been falling for, and thinks she can just take whatever she wants from me. I'm going to kill her. Are you in?"

He cocked his head to the side, frowning as he scanned her expression. "You're falling for me?" he repeated. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Out of everything I said, and after what happened, _that's _all you heard?" she exclaimed. He groaned, and reached out, settling his hand behind her neck and pulling her towards him.

"Don't worry, I'm in," he assured her. A part of her was ashamed at what had happened and wanted to push him away to get as far away from the reality of what she had lost, but the dominant part wanted- no, _needed_- the comfort only he seemed capable of offering. She didn't move as he held her, arms wrapped around her shoulders, but she didn't move closer, either.

"Good," she murmured quietly. They stood like that for a moment before he stepped back, walking into his closet.

"I have something to show you," he called, and returned only a second later with a large cardboard box. She watched as he pulled a legal-sized sheet of paper out of it and gave it to her to see. She scanned over the list quickly, and stopped at the first highlighted item.

"'Elizabeth's grimoire'?" she read, eyes widening. She looked up at him and he smiled slightly, shrugging a shoulder.

"I still don't know where it is, but Zach and your father had to know." He paused and swallowed. "There's something else. I'm remembering."

He didn't have to explain, but she didn't believe it. "Elizabeth?" she said, raising her brows. He nodded and her jaw dropped. "Holy shit. That means half the curse is broken!"

"Which means..."

"'Death' is the other part," she finished, grinning widely. "We just need to find the grimoire so that it can explain what that means!" Realizing what else the memories meant, she stopped. "Elizabeth was going to be your wife. Are you sure-?"

He held a finger to her lips, cutting her off. "Kaela?" he said, smiling and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Do you want to kill Elizabeth?" She nodded mutely without an ounce of hesitation, and he nodded as well. "Good. Then let's kill the bitch."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**So, the hunt to break the curse is on, full-force! Please let me know what you guys thought, it's crucial for me! Thanks, and I hope you all are well ^_^**


	32. The Only Option

**Author's Note:**

Well, lovely readers, here's Chapter 32! This story is nearing a close, and the sequel will be very close to follow, if you guys want one. I'm stuck in bed rest right now, so I'm kinda writing nonstop ha ha...

Have any of you seen the most recent TVD episodes? I'm going crazy here! When Damon shows Stefan the dagger at the end of the most recent...! Anyways, fan-girl moment over. Please, let me know what you guys think ^_^! I greatly appreciate the feedback from the last chapter, I'm glad to know Elizabeth's having the desired effect on you guys!

Review and I'll publish faster, promise!

* * *

Disgusted.

She scrubbed at her skin vigorously until it was red with irritation, rinsed the soap off and repeated, but the burning she felt was nothing like purgatory that could burn away the sins committed, or rather, the one sin she wished hadn't been committed. Tears ran down her face and mixed in with the water, stinging at the small cuts her nails had caused in her need to clean herself. Even as she stepped out of the shower an hour later, sterilized for all purposes and cleaned of any biological evidence of what had happened only the night before, when she looked up at herself in the fogged mirror, she only felt one thing.

Disgusted.

Refusing to spill any more tears, she wrapped a towel around herself and jerked the door open, storming into the hallway. Her legs were sore, she had light bruises on her arms, but worst of all, she _felt_ the difference. Her body wasn't the same as it had been a day before, and she hated it. When she looked up to open her door, she found Benji standing there, arms crossed and a brow raised expectantly.

"Now, would you care to explain to me why...?" he trailed off, taking in the red eyes, the irritated skin, and the exhausted stance. Immediately he went from looking at her accusingly to reaching out to comfort her. "Kaela, what...?"

"Don't touch me," she spat out, taking a step back. It turned out she still had tears left even after her hour of solid crying, because involuntarily hot tears started to slide down her cheeks and onto her neck, released upon seeing Elizabeth's twin. He looked at her with worry and confusion, but complied and dropped his hands.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. She gritted her teeth and shoved past him, careful not to make physical contact, and opened her door. When she turned around, Diane stood at the head of the stairs, looking at her with curiosity. Too many people were looking at her- didn't they understand she didn't want to be seen? "Mikaela, please-"

He reached out again and she flinched away, gripping the edge of the door to slam it in his face if need be. "I said, **don't touch me**," she repeated with a growl. This time, she knew he would listen, because for a moment, he looked genuinely scared. She never spoke to him like that. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Diane interrupted him.

"She did it, didn't she?" Diane asked. Her tone was very calm, but there was a shadow over her eyes that Mikaela wondered if Benji could see as well. "She went too far this time." Mikaela mutely nodded, and found herself strangely on the verge of tears when her mother nodded back in understanding.

"Benji," she called, her tone commanding authority. "Downstairs. Give her some time alone." After giving Mikaela one last worried look, he obeyed and walked down the stairs, leaving Diane and her daughter alone for a moment. The doctor sighed and held a hand to her forehead.

"Before I became pregnant with you, I got pregnant twice," she said suddenly, her eyes focused on the floor and her voice low. "The first time, I was seventeen, in a relationship with a Lockwood, experimenting, and apparently made the mistake of not using protection. I lost the baby when I got injured in a car accident- hell, I didn't even know I was pregnant until the doctor told me I'd lost my baby. Elizabeth tried everything she could to make the fetus survive, but there's a certain level of tissue damage that even those of us cursed can't recover from." She frowned, but continued. "A couple of months later, I got pregnant again, from a guy whose name I still don't know." She crossed her arms and leaned against the banister. "I'd learned from the first time, so when I found out, I drank a special tea that should have killed me. Of course, I survived, but my baby did not. It's a standard abortion for Knight women, as I later found out from my grandmother's journal."

She ran a hand along her arm and took a deep breath. "Both times I got pregnant, it was because Elizabeth had taken over my body. Even with Joseph..." Her voice cracked and she swallowed, clearing her throat. "...We both had agreed to a celibate relationship. On graduation night, Benji made sure the both of us got drunk, so my defenses were down, and..." She waved a hand at Mikaela. "Elizabeth made sure I conceived you. I couldn't bear the idea of another abortion, so... You're the lucky one that got to live with a curse instead of die."

Clearing her throat again, she stood up straight and took a deep breath. "It's a curse, Mikaela," she said. "No if, and, or but about it. It's a curse, and we're going to find a way to break it. Until then, we have to cope." Mikaela nodded, not sure what else there was to say. Reaching the end of her monologue, Diane asked the questions she'd been holding back. "Do you remember anything?"

Her mother was in doctor-mode, so while it would have been awkward for most girls, the questions didn't make her feel uncomfortable. "No," she answered quietly.

"Do you need to be tested?"

She shook her head. "No." As far as she knew, vampires didn't contract STD's.

"... Did you know him?"

That question made her uncomfortable. "Yeah," she answered reluctantly. "I'm not pregnant, though."

Her mother frowned. "Why are you so sure?" she asked. Mikaela lowered her head and licked her lips.

"Besides the surgery?" At that her mother diverted her blue eyes. Mikaela shrugged and stepped back into the room. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm not pregnant." With that, she closed the door, feeling less alone, but even dirtier than before she'd taken the damned shower.

* * *

"_You know, I'm in a coma, not on demand like Google."_

_Damon looked up from the ocean as Joseph Greene appeared next to him, sitting on the edge of the cliff like he was. The man looked exactly the same as he had the last time Damon had seen him, dressed in the same worn jeans and red lumberjack shirt with the same glint in his eye that his daughter had. The wind blew wildly around them as the sun set but Joseph seemed completely unaffected, not even a hair out of place as he gave Damon an expectant look._

"_So, what's forced you to summon me, to Cabo Roca of all places? Did you lose your toothbrush?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm not the biggest fan of Europe."_

"_It's important," Damon assured him. _

"_For your sake, it had better be," he said, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me. What's so important that you'd spend the past three hours harassing me for a talk?"_

"_It's about Elizabeth," he answered. To his surprise, rather than assume the grave expression that most people who knew about the dead witch did, Joseph rolled his eyes._

"_What about her?" he asked boredly. Surprised by the man's reaction, Damon frowned, but continued._

"_I need to know where her grimoire is," he said slowly. Joseph sighed._

"_You're wasting my time," he informed him, not bothering to mask his annoyance. "Unless you've suddenly regained your memory..." He trailed off, and gave Damon a curious look. "... You remember, don't you?" Damon nodded, earning himself a low whistle from the psychic. "Wow. What made you forget Katherine?"_

_Now Damon was very confused. "What does that have to do with anything?"_

_Exasperated by Damon's ignorance, Joseph waved a hand and explained. "The spell to make you forget Elizabeth could be broken in various ways, but the most direct way of making sure it was broken was by making you forget about Katherine." He shrugged. "When you became a vampire, that was pretty much rendered impossible. As a vampire, there's no natural way for you to ever forget her, even for a moment." He paused again and looked at Damon with questioning eyes. "How did you get pulled into a love spell?" he asked suddenly. Damon didn't even bother wondering how it was that the man reached that conclusion, and simply answered his question._

"_Bonnie and Elena were trying to make Mikaela loosen up with a spell. It got blown out of proportion, and the Lockwood brat and I got pulled into it."_

"_Huh." The man shook his head then went on. "Wow. I don't really think I want to know what was going on when my daughter made you forget Katherine." _

_Damon figured he was right. He didn't think the psychic would be too happy to know that the particular moment in which he'd been free of Katherine had been when he'd told Mikaela that he loved her, on his bed, in the middle of a make-out session, only minutes before the love spell was broken. Hell, he didn't think the man would be happy to know that his feelings for the girl hadn't changed much, even if he did remember Katherine. _

"_Well, I hate to break this to you, but as enlightening as it is to know that there was a way to break the first part of the curse, you've wasted a trip into this level of consciousness. There's nothing that can be done."_

_Getting a red flag from the statement, Damon braced himself. "What does that mean?"_

_Joseph sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "The curse. It's gotten a bit more complicated now," he said, the words clearly difficult for him to voice. "Damn it..."_

"_What? Why?" Damon demanded. He didn't like where the conversation was going, but the man's expression didn't change, and he had a feeling it wasn't going to._

"_You're here because Elizabeth is possessing Mikaela more frequently, and more insistently," he said with a groan. "Chances are it's because she knows the end is coming close."_

"_'The end'?" he repeated, raising a brow. _

"_Every time a Knight woman has gotten close to breaking the curse before she can, Elizabeth has made sure that the curse moves on to the next generation," he stated. "Mikaela's going to be the last of Elizabeth's bloodline, however, so she's getting desperate."_

"_Desperate for what?"_

_Joseph looked at him as if it were completely obvious. "To come back, of course," he said, scoffing. "Geez, how uninformed are you? She wouldn't tie herself to her bloodline unless it was for a good reason. Now that the lock on her curse is broken, she wants to break the curse so she can live the life she ended." He eyed Damon distastefully. "With you."_

_Damon bit back his retort at the indirect insult and took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll bite. If she's also trying to break the curse, what do I have to do to make sure we break it first?" he asked, forcing the words to sound civil. He heard the wind die down, replaced instead with a strange silence that was louder than the wind had been. Joseph got to his feet and looked out at the setting sun, thumbs looped in his pockets._

"_Death is the only way to end the curse," he answered, his voice starting to sound distant. "She can get revenge, but finding the vampire Petrova is impossible for her to do with her magic clashing against Mikaela's energy." He shrugged. "The lock on the curse is broken, so now, all that's left is death. Mikaela can't bear children, so the curse has to end with her. My guess is that Elizabeth is simply waiting for Mikaela's natural death, or is trying to make her come upon it soon so that she can come back and kill Katherine."_

"_'Mikaela's natural death'?" Damon repeated incredulously. "That's it? There's no way for Mikaela to live without Elizabeth?"_

"_The first part of the curse is broken," Joseph went on, almost as if he didn't hear him. "Elizabeth won't bring her back from natural death anymore. They can't coexist for much longer." Finally, he turned and gave Damon a sad look. "It is a curse, after all." _

_And with that, Damon was kicked out._

* * *

If there's one thing worse than not finding what you're looking for, it's finding it and wishing you hadn't.

Damon sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair next to the hospital bed, head resting in his hands as he resisted the urge to tear the room apart. Joseph Greene laid silently in his bed, breathing steady and face impassive, as if nothing had happened only minutes before. Taking a deep breath, he let out a groan and dropped his head back. After a couple of seconds of silence, he composed himself and stood up, not even bothering to look back at the harbinger of bad news that was Mikaela's father.

Death.

That could not be the only answer.

* * *

"You're distracted."

The elephant in the room was verbalized around the fifth time Mikaela found herself face-up on the floor, this time only ten seconds into the song. She groaned and pulled herself into a sitting position, dropping her forehead into the palm of her hand and heaving a sigh.

The clock told her it was nearing five o'clock in the evening, around the time that their practices normally ended. Not only had she arrived late, but she had been performing terribly. She had finally managed to execute the turn she'd been having trouble with the day before, but then she was failing to do even the most basic moves that followed. There was no way around it.

"I know," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

He sighed and turned off the music, but rather than give her a lecture like he normally did, he sat down next to her. Something about a man in a suit sitting next to her while she was sweaty, sore and looked a wreck seemed strange, but she welcomed it. Hell, she welcomed any sort of help Smith was willing to offer. The man was a godsend, offering to train her free of charge so long as she auditioned for a school he was affiliated with. His hand fell on her shoulder and she was grateful to not be bombarded with his emotions. When his hand touched her shoulder, she felt the simple physical comfort that everyone else in the world felt, not the insight into his psyche that she was accustomed to feeling with everyone else.

"I'm reaching the conclusion that something's on your mind," he said carefully. Apologetically, she nodded in confirmation. "Do you want to talk about it?"

_Nothing much to say, Smith. I have the ghost of my ancestor residing in my body, now freely taking over whenever she wants to do whatever and whomever she wants. Hell, she even gave my virginity away, just last night, to a vampire who broke her heart, and who I'm sorta-but-not-exactly dating, because my two lifelong buddies thought it would be fun to try casting a love spell over us._

Rather than throw that all on him, she simply settled with shaking her head. "Boy trouble?" he asked calmly. She hesitated before slightly nodding her head. "Of course."

"It's not just that. It's... complicated," she said, wishing there was some way to make it sound less petty. "I swear, I don't let guys get in the way of my work. It's just-"

"You need to feel comfortable in your own skin," he cut off, catching her by surprise. The message was clear that he didn't want to hear excuses: he wanted to see results. "Mikaela, dancing is about using your body, and whether it's boys or school, you can't let anything make you lose confidence." He chuckled. "You have more pride than most girls your age from your circumstances will ever have, and that's your strength." He met her eyes then, giving her a slight smile. "Don't let anyone take that from you."

She stayed quiet as he got up then and offered her his hand. As if in slow motion, she accepted the gesture and got to her feet, standing in the center of the room in a daze. It normally took a lot for somebody to say something that caught her by surprise, and this man she'd barely met had pretty much assessed her in a second and given her a solution just as quickly. With a knowing smile, he released her hand and turned on the music.

* * *

Damon watched from the other room as the music started and she started to dance, this time with more strength. As she performed the turn she'd been having so much trouble with, she looked so beautiful, so... _alive._ She went through the rest of the dance smoothly, as if the dance was the most natural thing for her to do, even if as she neared the end, she tripped and almost fell. When she was standing up again, she looked at her coach with a wide, hopeful grin.

"Better?" she asked. The man smiled with one side of his mouth.

"Better," he confirmed with a nod. "Again."

She nodded eagerly and stretched, excited to get started. Damon sighed and turned around, unable to bear watching any more. She was auditioning for a scholarship she could possibly get, for a college program she wouldn't be able to attend. If Elizabeth had taken such drastic measures only a week after the first part of the curse was broken, he knew she wouldn't take kindly to Mikaela moving away from him, for any period of time.

So, he'd let her dance, even if just for another hour, before he'd give her the bad news of her fate. She deserved at least that.

* * *

Thankfully, this time, when she walked up to the front door of the Salvatore boarding house, it wasn't raining. The sun had set, but it was a clear, cool night, and the moon was bright among the stars. She pushed open the door, grateful it was unlocked this time, and stepped inside, closing it behind her.

"Damon," Mikaela called. "I'm here."

She'd received a text message from him just as she was getting out of practice: _Meet me at the boarding house ASAP- it's about the bitch. XOXO._ Leave it to Damon to try and be funny to break the morning-after tension. When he didn't answer, she simply wandered up the stairs, figuring he would be in his room. She heard shuffling, and when she turned around, she saw Stefan blur past her and run down the stairs.

He _really _wasn't handling the human blood well.

"Sorry about my brother, he's exceptionally tense today." Damon's voice carried to her from his room down the hall, and bracing herself for the embarrassment, she made her way to him. He'd already retreated back into his room by the time she got there, but he'd left the door open in silent invitation.

She expected an onslaught of emotion when she walked back into the room where "the deed" had been committed, and there was, but not of the kind that she expected. When she looked at the bed, all she could think about was how he'd comforted her the night before when she'd been cold, and of the moments before they'd been told that their emotions were simply the result of a spell gone awry.

Good memories. Sorta.

"Do you want something to drink?" Damon asked from the small bar in the corner of his room. She cleared her throat and shook her head.

"No thanks, I'm good," she said, internally celebrating that her voice didn't falter. He turned around then, a bottle of water in one hand and a glass of bourbon in the other.

"Get used to saying that," he advised, handing her the bottle. "Alcohol is your trigger, and we don't want to give Elizabeth any kind of advantage."

Mikaela frowned, not completely understanding. "My trigger?" she repeated, raising a brow. He nodded.

"You see, each Knight descendant has a trigger, something that allows Elizabeth to take over if she wants to," he explained, wandering over to the desk pushed up close to the window. She didn't remember the desk from before last night, so she figured it must have been a new addition. "Yours is alcohol, so stay away from it."

"Okay," she said slowly, not sure whether to take him seriously or not. After a moment's thought, however, it started to make sense. At the Founder's Day Ball, she'd had a glass of white wine before being possessed; when she'd spent the day with Damon instead of Vicki, she'd made sure she was drunk, and Elizabeth had taken over for a while; the night she'd been on her date with Tyler, she'd had one- no, two- beers. "How the hell did you figure that out?" she demanded. She hadn't even known there was a specific trigger! He shrugged nonchalantly.

"You tasted like alcohol the three times," he said, waving a hand. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're lying," she stated, unable to hide her surprise. "Why are you lying to me?"

He groaned. "Look, Kaela, there are some things I want to tell you," he began, his voice taking on a serious tone as he turned, now on the other side of the room. "The thing is, I can't tell you everything, not right now. I need you to trust me."

"Then trust me with the truth," she pressed. He ran a hand through his hair and downed the drink all at once, barely wincing as it made its way down his throat. Something was wrong, he was hiding something, and wasn't the sarcastic, witty person he always was. She walked over to him, dropping her duffel bag and bottle of water on the floor. "Damon, I've always been honest with you, even when it was to open the tomb. Please-!"

"I found out how to break the curse." He blurted out the words before she could continue, and within a second, was pouring himself another drink. Mikaela couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed, unable to believe it. "Damon, that's-! God, that's amazing!" She laughed, a huge weight that had been on her chest suddenly lifted. "Did you find the grimoire?"

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "I talked to a source who knows a little something about spells," he said vaguely, and for once, she didn't even mind that he wasn't being clear.

"Alright, so what do we have to do?" she asked, hurrying over to his desk. There was a box, and she recognized the contents as Elizabeth's possessions from when she was living. "We have plenty of her things here."

"Kaela..."

"I'm sure I could find a strand of her hair somewhere," she mused, pulling out an ornate comb.

"Mikaela."

"Most likely the spell will require some blood, but that's fine, I guess," she said with a shrug. "I doubt it will be so specific as to require a full moon-"

"We can't break the curse."

That made her stop. She looked at him and he looked away, cursing. Now she saw the pain he'd been trying to hide, and realized this was what he'd been meaning to tell her all along. "What?" she asked quietly, placing the objects back into the box and crossing her arms. "Why?"

He hissed and focused his eyes on a painting on the wall. "Death. You guys were right the first time: death is what breaks the curse," he said reluctantly. "If you die, the curse breaks, and Elizabeth comes back."

For a moment she stared at him, refusing to believe what she had just heard. "No," she objected, shaking her head slowly. "Katherine is the one who has to die. It said so in Emily's-"

"Well, then it's more complicated," he interrupted, raising his voice. "Sure, you could go and track down a vampire who's impossible to find, but you don't stand a chance." She stayed silent. "Look... thanks to the whole balance of the universe, the two of you can't be completely living at the same time. Because the lock is off of the curse, at some point soon, one of you has to go." He gestured angrily at Emily's grimoire. "Trust me, I looked it up."

"So, what you're trying to say is... I'm stuck like this?" she concluded, her voice flat and cold. "Until I die of natural causes?" Damon looked at her then, hearing the way that she was putting up a wall against him, and his expression softened.

"Mikaela-"

"Is that what you're saying?" she demanded loudly, not allowing him time to speak. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head.

"There's more," he admitted. "Your coming-back-to-life thing is over. Right now, all that Elizabeth wants is to come back. You dying would allow that."

It was impossible. She cursed under her breath and lifted a hand to her forehead, feeling a wave of dizziness threatening to take over. "It doesn't make sense," she muttered. "If she wanted me dead, why hasn't she killed me yet?"

"I don't know," he said, moving forward. She didn't flinch away, so he took that as an invitation into her personal space. "Also... For some reason, my source believes you're going to be the last of the bloodline."

At that she froze, and looked up at him suspiciously. "Nobody knows about that," she said quietly. "Did you talk to my mother?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I spoke to a psychic. I guess he caught onto it or something-"

"He would have to know me to be able to know something like that," she insisted. He shook his head.

"I don't know how he knows what he does," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Mikaela, if you're sick—"

"It was a surgery," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. Apparently she didn't want Stefan to know. "My mom said my appendix was being removed. I figured out she'd lied when I saw Matt's scar and realized mine was completely different. I'm in perfect health, don't worry."

They stood in silence for several moments, neither knowing what to say. Finally Damon lowered his hands to her arms and cleared his throat. "Your mother and I are going to look for a spell to suppress Elizabeth," he began, keeping his voice low like hers. "Until then, no alcohol, and no life-threatening situations. I also promise to not make another mistake like last night, and wait-"

"There's an option we still haven't talked about."

Even when she didn't voice the specific option, he knew what she meant. She looked straight into his eyes, and even he could tell that she wasn't ready for that: she was reaching, clawing for any way to live without having Elizabeth under her skin. Involuntarily he ran a hand down her cheek.

"That's not an option," he whispered.

"It could be," she insisted. "Maybe not now, but-"

"You can't," he stated sadly, shaking his head. "Something about the curse doesn't let you." When she frowned, he explained. "The night that you escaped from Frederic and the rest of the vampires, you drank vampire blood to get your strength back." Her eyes widened in realization as she put the pieces together. "Stefan killed you after you drank that blood, and you're still human."

"Maybe it's different now, because the first part of the curse-!"

"I'm not taking that risk," he said, before she could continue. "You'd have to die, and I don't know if Elizabeth will interfere with you coming back." He practically saw the thoughts passing through her mind and gripped her firmly. "If you're thinking about going behind my back, so help me, I will compel you to not take blood from anyone but me," he warned, his voice bordering on a growl. She had never been one to be easily intimidated, however, and even with the night's events, she wasn't going to change that.

She jerked out of his grip and glared. "You don't get to tell me what to do," she snapped.

"You can't be serious!" he exclaimed exasperatedly. "Look, I get that you're pissed at Elizabeth- hell, I'd give anything to kill her!- but becoming a _vampire_? That's stupid, even for your standards! Just wait it out a bit, maybe-"

"If we can't find a better solution than 'Let's just deal with it', then what the hell else do you expect me to do?" she shouted angrily. "She's crossed the line! At this point, I'll take the 50-50 chance that I'll come back as a vampire, if only to kill that selfish bitch!"

"I'm telling you not to do it!"

"And I'm telling you that I don't care!"

"You forget who has the upper hand here!" he yelled back, moving forward. "All I have to do is tell you it's a bad idea, work my magic, and you'll agree, too." She barked a laugh and pushed him back.

"Go ahead, compel me," she spat. "I'll hate you forever."

He chuckled. "You must think I'm stupid. I know you have vervain in your system," he scoffed. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course I have vervain in my system," she said back mockingly. "I have to, to protect myself from psychotic vampires like you!"

In a second she was slammed against the wall, wrists pinned next to her head and his fangs right in front of her eyes. Rather than silence her the way he'd most likely intended for her to do, she looked up into his red eyes challengingly. "Come on, Damon," she urged. "Compel me! See if I don't hate-!"

His lips slammed against hers forcefully, muffling out the rest of her words. At first she fought, trying to turn her head away or break her wrists free, but her struggle only lasted a second. She gave in to the kiss and matched his aggressiveness, pulling him closer and pressing her body against his. He released her wrists and clamped an arm around her waist, holding her firmly to him.

"I can't let you hate me," he muttered against her lips, using his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Then we're in agreement," she concluded, wrapping her arms around his neck. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

"Sorry sweetheart," he said quietly, giving her an apologetic look. "I'd rather you hate me then die." She didn't even have the chance to register what he'd said before he firmly tapped the back of her neck, knocking her out cold.

* * *

Damon watched from the other side of the padlocked door as she slowly came back to consciousness, hands twitching and eyes struggling to open. She took in her surroundings with that frown that sometimes seemed to permanently mar her face, and after realizing where she was, her gaze shot straight for the door where he stood.

"Oh no," she growled. "You can't be serious."

"You've left me no choice," he said gravely. She gritted her teeth and sat up on her knees, taking in the details of the cellar she was locked in. It was the same cellar where Zack used to grow vervain (all of the plants had been moved, of course), and the same cellar where Damon had been locked up months before. She shook her head disbelievingly and stood up.

"Damon-"

"Do you promise not to do something stupid like try and become a vampire?" he asked, cutting her off. She rubbed the back of her head where he'd hit her, and sighed.

"I promise," she muttered. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You used to be a better liar," he informed her coldly. She groaned and threw up her hands exasperatedly.

"Seriously, Damon?" she exclaimed. "You're gonna lock me in here until the vervain leaves my system, and then compel me to not become a vampire?"

"Unless you come to your senses first," he corrected. "Then, I'd be more than happy to let you out."

"Somebody's gonna notice I'm missing," she pointed out. He barked a laugh.

"Yeah, because you've been talking so much with Elena and Bonnie lately," he said sarcastically. "Look, I already talked to Diane, and she agrees."

"This isn't some sleepover I need my mother's permission to attend!" she yelled. "This is you taking away my free will!"

"If you weren't such a suicidal _idiot_-!"

"I'm not suicidal!" she insisted. "I just don't want Elizabeth to take anything else away from me!"

"And I don't want to lose you because of that damn witch!" That time she stayed quiet, albeit reluctantly. He growled and banged his fist on the wall, causing the whole room to shake. "Damn it Mikaela, don't you get it? Elizabeth _wants _you to die," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. Before he could continue, a cheerful jingle sounded from the inside pocket of his jacket. Mikaela's eyes flickered with recognition as he pulled her cellphone out to see why it was ringing.

"You have a text message," he informed her. He pressed a button to read the message, and rolled his eyes. "Seriously? It says you left your wallet in the dance studio."

"Give me my phone," she ordered, reaching through the bars for it. He stepped out of her reach and started to reply.

"'Thanks so much for finding it for me!'" he read out loud so she could hear. She yelled in objection, but he continued anyway. "'I'm sending my boyfriend to get it tomorrow. 10 AM ok?'"

"I have a training session tomorrow!" she snapped. "I can't miss that!"

He paused. "'BTW, feeling under the weather. Gotta skip practice tomorrow'," he added.

"Damn it, Damon, don't do this," she pleaded, gripping the bars and shaking them. Of course, she did little more than dirty her hands. "We can talk about this-!"

"There isn't anything to talk about," he said, storing her phone back in his pocket. "I'm not going to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," she insisted desperately. "Just let me out of this cellar."

Even as she begged, he shook his head and made his way to the stairs. He didn't say anything else, and as he vanished from her line of sight, he heard her let out a frustrated scream. Stefan passed by him in the hall and gave him a questioning look, but Damon held up his hand. "Seriously, Stef? Tomorrow we can discuss how better to handle a girlfriend desperate to become a vampire."

"Mikaela's your girlfriend?" Stefan asked doubtfully. Damon scoffed as Mikaela yelled out another string of useless curses.

"Duh, can't you tell?"

Shaking his head, he made his way back up to his room, surprised when Mikaela's phone rang again. He pressed "Enter" to read it, and rolled his eyes.

_I'll give you one day. Drink plenty of orange juice, sleep, and I'll expect you at 10 AM sharp the day after tomorrow._

"You run a tight show, Mr..." he trailed off, scrolling up to see the name of the sender. "... Elijah Smith."

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**If you don't know who Elijah is, then go watch the show and find out. Trust me, it's worth it.**

**Please guys, review! And thanks so much for reading :)**


	33. Change of Plans

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! Thanks a lot for the reviews last chapter, they really made my week :D **

**Well, here's the next chapter! Quite a lot of Elijah, some Elizabeth- once again, if you don't know who Elijah is, go find out, because he's awesome!**

**From here on out, this won't follow the TV show's story line as faithfully as it has. The characters will all be kept within character, but several things will be omitted or simply brushed over. **

**So, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think ^_^!**

* * *

In the school's student records, the place of residence isn't always the place in which the student in question is residing. That was becoming clearer and clearer to Elijah as he waited across the street from the house that the school secretary had insisted Mikaela would be in. It seemed a normal-enough house despite the fire that had burned it down four years before, and the neighborhood was a nice one.

When he'd received the text message from Mikaela, he'd known that something was wrong. Call it intuition, but after the conversation they'd had at the dance studio, it didn't make sense for her to miss a dance practice so easily, or to mention a "boyfriend" when she'd been embarrassed to even admit to having boy problems. So, he'd begun to investigate, to make sure he wasn't having a repeat incident of what had happened with her mother over twenty years before.

The front door started to open, and Elijah focused on the person walking out- or rather, the people walking out. He'd heard one heartbeat and three different voices when he'd circled the house earlier, but not wanting to run the risk of the psychic catching onto his energy, he'd settled on waiting hidden in the tree line. As the house's occupants walked out, however, he saw that his worry was unmerited: the woman accompanied by the two men was not Mikaela, but rather a blonde woman with blue eyes.

He recognized Diane immediately, even if it had been many years since they'd last met at her mother's funeral. It had been a terrible suicide and the witch had been more than welcoming to him- until she'd started to get flashbacks from Elizabeth's life, that is. That was the thing about dead witches: they had a tendency to warn their posterity when they knew something was coming their way. Needless to say, Diane had disappeared within the week, and by the time he'd found her, it was too late to enlist her help.

Even as she walked to her car, talking conversationally with the two men, her eyes flitted in his direction as if she sensed him. He stepped further into the shadows just in case, but there was no need. One of her companions asked a question, and received her full attention once again.

The two men were obviously vampires, but that was no surprise. The Smiths had never been famous for keeping the best of company, much less the line that followed Elizabeth Knight. Hell, if he wasn't mistaken, one of the two men was Damon Salvatore, the man responsible for Elizabeth killing herself a century and a half before. He'd heard that he'd become a vampire, but hadn't had the chance to speak to him face-to-face yet.

"Don't worry, Stefan's making sure she stays locked up," Damon assured Diane when she asked him a question. It was clear that he was talking about Mikaela- honestly, how many teenage psychics went missing in town? "The vervain should be out of her system by tonight, but I'll wait until the morning, just to be sure."

"You'd better not take advantage, Salvatore," the other vampire warned. "We're trusting you because you have a convenient cellar, but that doesn't mean I won't destroy you if you cross the line." Damon rolled his eyes and waved a hand.

"I'll have her back here tomorrow morning, pinky-promise," he said mockingly.

The man chuckled. "Don't be surprised if I stop by for a visit later, just in case."

"Boys, boys," Diane scolded, holding up her hands. "Please, enough of the pissing contest. Damon, go back to the boarding house already. And you, shut it," she warned, pointing a finger at her companion. "You're already in hot water thanks to your little scene with Elena." Diane's companion, judging by her body language, was someone she trusted more than the other man present despite the scolding. As the vampire sighed and held open the car door for her, Elijah was able to get a good look at his face. As he took in the bright green eyes, the tan skin and the natural smirk, Elijah felt an unfamiliar jolt of shock.

It couldn't be possible.

But it was. Benjamin Knight circled the car and cracked his neck like he always used to, as if not a day had passed since he'd been fifteen years old. Even if Elizabeth's twin had never displayed supernatural talents like she had, Elijah had observed him closely just in case, and remembered the boy well. Benjamin paused and looked toward the trees, and Elijah didn't even bother to move. If the boy saw him, then it would give him the opportunity to demand answers. Hell, if he was able to see him, it would mean that he had eye sight that surpassed Elijah's own. Benjamin lowered himself into the car seconds later, not bothering to look into the trees twice.

The two parties drove off in opposite directions, but Elijah couldn't help staring after Diane's car. He'd seen it with his own two eyes, but it couldn't be possible that Benji was a vampire. The boy had died the same moment as his twin thanks to their connection; if he'd come back from the dead as a vampire, then Elizabeth would have, as well.

And everyone knew that Elizabeth was very much lost to them all.

* * *

Damon had confiscated her phone, but Mikaela thanked God that Smith had forced her to wear a digital watch to help keep track of the things she had to do. Already in her more or less twenty hours of confinement, it had gone off twice, once to wake her up for her morning run, and a second time to let her know that she was late for dance practice. But those things weren't important to her.

She knew the routine. If he was waiting for the vervain to leave her system, he was going to play it safe and wait the whole twenty-four hour cycle, even if the extract had left her blood stream many hours before. That meant she only had a small window left to escape, and she had to move quickly.

"Stefan!" she called. Of course, he didn't answer at first, but after she called his name five more times, and gave his mind a push, he appeared in front of the door. His jaw was tight and he was sweating, extremely tense for some reason. Well, actually, the reason was painfully clear: he was _still _trying to handle the urge for human blood. Figuring it would be best to get it over with before he tried draining her, she cleared her throat and approached the window. "Hey Stefan. Can you do me a favor, please?"

"I'm not letting you out," he informed her flatly. She shook her head.

"I know, I know," she assured him, smiling in false understanding. "He's your brother. I wanted to know if you could bring me something."

"Like?" he asked tightly. She shrugged.

"Vervain?" He groaned and she reached out before he could walk away. "Wait, wait! Fine! Look, I'm freaking out here, you've got to understand that!"

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked tiredly. "You're the one who wants to become a vampire-"

She shook her head. "I don't want to become a vampire," she said pleadingly. "I'm just desperate. I hate being like this." She paused and met his eyes. "You'd know what it's like, to be stuck the way you are with no apparent solutions." He looked away, and she knew she'd gotten through to him. "Look, I know becoming a vampire isn't the solution, but I don't know what else is. That isn't good enough for Damon, and I know he's going to compel me when he gets home. I've accepted that, but it's all hitting me fast." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?"

Holding back her victorious smile, she took a deep breath. "A drink to calm my nerves?" She thought for a moment and shrugged a shoulder. "Bourbon, to spite Damon."

* * *

Finding the Salvatore boarding house was much easier than he'd expected. A friendly store-owner had pointed him in the right direction and he'd gotten to the house before Damon, which had to be good, considering it seemed the vampire was the one keeping the girl "locked up" for whatever purposes he had come up with. Elijah hoped against hope that the girl's "significant other" wasn't Damon, because that would be a grave disappointment. As he raised his hand to knock on the door, he heard an explosion and stopped.

What was it with the Knight women starting fires?

Without waiting another second, he kicked open the door and ran inside, making his way straight for the place where he'd heard the sound coming from. He reached the head of a staircase that led underground, everything below hidden from view by a large cloud of dust. There were sounds of a struggle, and a man's voice.

"Mikaela, stop! Control-!" The man's voice was cut off by a choking sound. "Kaela-!" he gasped out.

"I free you, Stefan," Mikaela said calmly, her voice deeper than it normally was. At the sound of her voice, Elijah ran down the stairs and into the fray.

Mikaela stood in the dark hallway, one hand holding a metal pipe to "Stefan's" throat, and another covering the man's face. A wave of energy radiated off of them before Stefan's limp body collapsed to the floor in a heap. Mikaela bent down and combed the hair out of his face affectionately, allowing Elijah a clear view of who he was.

Stefan Salvatore, the man who had been courting Elizabeth for the public eye while she and Damon Salvatore carried on their secret relationship. He'd been one of her best friends, even when she was fifteen years old. Of course he was a vampire: everyone was.

Elijah expected some strangeness when Mikaela stood up, but he wasn't prepared to be met with those unnaturally bright green eyes and the flash of recognition crossing her face. Even with Mikaela's appearance, he would recognize those eyes anywhere, and her expressions were etched into his memory like the old friend he considered her to be.

Elizabeth.

Well, she would have been considered an old friend if she hadn't betrayed him, and had actually been alive for the past century and a half. Her jaw tightened and she gulped, clearly as caught off guard as he was. "Elijah," she choked out. "What are you doing here?" He nodded and took a step forward, pulling up a collected facade as if he'd known she was there all along.

"I saw your brother a couple of minutes ago, Elizabeth," he commented conversationally, looking her straight in the eye, silently daring her to move. Of course, she didn't. "I do think some explanations are in order."

"I swear, I wasn't trying to run away from you," she began, panic starting to take a hold. She knew how bad of a situation she was in. She also knew she had only a matter of seconds before he decided to cast judgment as he saw fit. "It was back in 1863, a vampire named Katherine-"

"I don't care for your whole story," he interrupted calmly, steadily moving forward. As she held up her hands, they shook slightly. "How are you and your brother still alive? And what are you doing in control of Mikaela's body?"

"I cast a spell," she answered quickly. "I bound my spirit to my bloodline, and Benji got pulled into it."

"Elaborate," he ordered tightly. "What does that mean?"

"I live as long as my bloodline lives," she rushed.

"And you didn't bother to look for me to correct the news of your passing?"

"I share the same body with my descendant, but I can only possess my host for short periods whenever she flips the trigger." She paused, considering whether to give him further information. "The first part of the spell was broken about two weeks ago, though, so it's becoming easier to possess my host, and for longer amounts of time."

"Why would you go to all of the trouble?"

"I need more time for revenge," she said in a hiss. "Soon I'll break the curse, and then I'll be able to get it."

"'Revenge'?" he repeated doubtfully.

"Katherine Pierce. She took everything from me."

Elijah sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You always were quite petty, Elizabeth," he said, if only to spite her. It worked. She gritted her teeth and glared.

"You have no idea what was happening at the time," she spat, doing a 180-degree turn from cowering to fighting. "Then again, how could you? You left right after Miracle was born!"

"Because you were useless to me as a mother!" he exclaimed. "What else did you expect? For me to sit around while you played House with a dead man's child? It was pitiful, the fall you took!"

"Then don't be so upset that I took matters into my own hands!" she shot back with a roar. "My decisions stopped being your concern the moment you left town! I had to finish learning about magic on my own, and when that damned Petrova woman had that Bennett traitor cast a spell on me-!"

"'Petrova'?" Elijah repeated, earning himself a slow smile from the witch. She couldn't be telling the truth. "What are you talking about?"

"Katherine Pierce, otherwise known as Katerina Petrova," she said, standing up tall and looking him straight in the eye. "She arrived to Mystic Falls very soon after you left. Seeing as you didn't leave an address..." She trailed off, raising a brow expectantly. "So, I've given my explanation. What are you doing here?" Within a second Elijah had her held a foot above the ground by her neck, his hand squeezing her windpipe so she couldn't breathe. Gasping, she clawed at his hand and kicked out her legs, trying to loosen his grip, if only slightly.

He looked at her with a calm expression and cocked his head to the side. "Wondering if you're going to prove to be a problem when I need Mikaela to do what you couldn't," he said. "Is your little spell going to interfere?" Her eyes widened and she shook her head tightly. "Good." With that, he let her go and she dropped to the floor, collapsing on her knees in a fit of gasps and coughs. "Now. Is Mikaela conscious of what happens when you take control?"

"No," she forced out with a raspy voice, "and I don't know what happens with her, either."

"Which explains you working magic on Stefan Salvatore," he mused sarcastically, looking over his shoulder at the unconscious vampire. "What did you do?"

"I detoxed him from human blood," she said after a moment, her voice slightly stronger. At Elijah's questioning look, she shook her head. "He doesn't embrace being a vampire, and he was going crazy."

"You still have a terrible choice in men," he stated. "That extends to friends." She shook her head and got to her feet. "Well, it would seem Damon Salvatore locked her in a cellar," Elijah mused, looking around. The door was strewn across the floor, broken into two pieces. That was Elizabeth, alright: power, but no elegance. "It would seem you accomplished breaking her out."

"Why would he lock her in a cellar?" Elizabeth asked in confusion. Elijah shrugged.

"That is none of my concern, not if he means Mikaela no harm. Does he?"

"No," she answered slowly, shaking her head. "He's smitten." She frowned. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I came looking for Mikaela, and found you," he answered, and stopped. "Tell me, Elizabeth. This curse of yours, if broken, what happens?"

She looked down and took a breath. The circumstances were having a strong effect on her. "I come back," she replied. "If Mikaela breaks the curse, however, I move on." He had a feeling she didn't want to talk about the topic, but that didn't stop him from opening his mouth to demand more details. He heard a car pulling in to the driveway and internally groaned.

"Speak of the devil. Salvatore has just arrived." Elizabeth cursed and took a deep breath.

"You may want to leave before Mikaela sees you and demands explanations," she warned, and closed her eyes. "Three, two, one-" She gasped and Elijah ran out, figuring it would be best to heed the witch's advice when it came to Mikaela and vampires. He took the back door and managed to avoid Damon completely, but that didn't hide the yelling and sounds of struggle that followed the Salvatore's entrance into the house.

Elijah shook his head and walked off into the woods, pulling his cellphone out of his jacket pocket. Elizabeth being alive changed things, possibly for the better, and he needed to make those changes as soon as possible.

It would be just like old times.

* * *

When Mikaela came to, she was standing in the middle of the hallway. Stefan was strewn across the floor, unconscious, and the door was in pieces. The dust still hadn't completely settled from what she could only guess had to have been a pretty large explosion, and despite the mess, she was grateful: she was worried Elizabeth wouldn't know what to do when Mikaela let her take control.

In all honesty, she wasn't even entirely sure what she'd expected to happen, either. She'd been staring at the door all day and night, willing it to open, to absolutely no avail; when she'd reached the point of desperation, she'd turned to Elizabeth for help. Turning to the woman she was desperate to kill was better than not taking advantage of the fact that she was there, and not have the chance to kill her, ever.

Not wasting more than a second to take in the situation, she made a break for the stairs. She heard Damon's car in the driveway, but the sound only spurred her on as she ran up the stairs and onto the first floor landing. She didn't stop to get her bearings and sprinted for the back door, relieved to see that it was already open. She reached her arm out to push the door the rest of the way, only to be stopped by her stomach turning.

A steel-like arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground before throwing her over Damon's shoulder. Letting out a frustrated growl, she pushed against him and writhed around, trying to break free from his grip. He didn't say anything but held her in place, not budging as he made his way back to the cellar. Before he could step down the stairs, Stefan walked up, rubbing his head.

"What happened?" Damon demanded with a growl.

"Elizabeth," Stefan spat out. Damon shook his head angrily. "The door's broken, so it's no use."

"Damn it, Elizabeth!" Damon muttered. With a sigh he made his way up the stairs to the bedrooms, motioning for Stefan to not follow him. Realizing what was going to happen, Mikaela growled and tried to pry his hands off of her, uselessly. If anything, he held her even tighter, to an almost painful degree.

When he kicked open the door, she was surprised to find that they were in her room. For some reason, she'd expected for him to take her to his bedroom. To further her surprise, rather than set her down on the bed, he pulled a chair away from the desk and dropped her in it. Even if she knew she wouldn't get away, the moment he released her she tried to get to her feet, only to have him push her back into the wooden chair.

He braced his hands against the chair arms and leaned forward, effectively trapping her there. She glared straight into his pale blue eyes challengingly, not wanting to surrender. "Go ahead, compel me," she hissed, venom dripping from her every word. He didn't step down, completely unaffected by her tough act. In reality, her heart was threatening to burst from her chest, almost scared of what he was going to do next.

"Are you sure you want to be a vampire?" he asked quietly. She blinked, surprised by the question.

"If it's between living a life where Elizabeth takes what she pleases and being a vampire, then I choose being a vampire," she said, knowing full well that it meant he would compel her. It could be the end of them together, but if she wasn't honest about where she stood, then there was no real point in them being together at all. She saw his jaw tighten before he let out a breath.

"If that's all you have left to say..." He held her shoulder firmly to the back of the chair and she took a deep breath, bracing herself. Rather than lock her gaze and tell her the order he'd promised, Damon lifted his wrist to his mouth and bit down on the inside. Blood immediately began to gush from the wound, and before it could heal over, he pushed it to her lips and held it there.

Instinctively she tried to push his arm away, but he'd expected that and held her head firmly in place. When she realized what he was doing, she forced herself to calm down and swallow the blood, as disgusting as it tasted at first. After only two gulps he pulled it away and wiped the excess blood off on a towel on the desk.

"Now, you will not try and become a vampire without consulting with me first," he stated, finally meeting her eyes. His voice was heavy with compulsion, and even if she was conscious of the fact, she couldn't fight it off. Reluctantly she repeated the order back, and he nodded. "There," he said conclusively. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain. "That's my compromise."

"What's your compromise?" she asked after a moment. "You did exactly what you said you were going to do." He shook his head, holding out a hand for her.

"I'm giving you my blood in exchange for some time," he clarified. "This way, if you happen to die, at least we have a chance that you'll come back." When she didn't say anything or move, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "In the mean time, I'll continue to look for something that will break this curse so we can kill the bitch. If I can't come up with anything, then we'll reevaluate the situation."

"And if you still can't come up with anything?"

He rolled his eyes. "If you still want me to, I'll turn you."

"I thought you didn't want me to become a vampire," she pointed out. He smiled sadly.

"I don't, and I do," he admitted. "I don't want to lose you, and trying to turn you into a vampire makes me run the risk of you dying for good. That's not a risk I'm willing to take until we're sure there's no other option, so..."

"Compromise," she concluded. He nodded in confirmation.

"Compromise," he agreed. After a moment of silence, she wrapped her arms around his neck and groaned.

"Was it really necessary to lock me in a cellar to tell me that?" she asked tiredly. He chuckled and scooped her up into his arms.

"I'd forgotten that I compelled you to never kill yourself, so..." he trailed off, indirectly admitting to his mistake. She gaped at him in disbelief.

"You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "You locked me up in there for nothing? That's—!" He cut her off with a kiss and she groaned again, knowing there was no point in arguing with him anymore. They'd reached something of a compromise, and even if the measures taken to reach that compromise had been somewhat extreme, and even if he had technically taken away part of her choice in the matter, that was fine. It seemed to be the trade-off when it came to the extreme topic that was her death.

They'd never been much of a conventional couple, anyway.

* * *

Elijah settled down in his usual seat and drummed his fingers on the table as he waited. The dining room was cluttered with grimoires, books and paperwork, as usual, making him wonder how the good doctor managed to get any work done. As Dr. Martin returned from his study, Elijah shrugged it off: so long as he was able to get the job done, Elijah didn't care enough to bother him about the mess.

"I was able to get the paperwork done by a friend at the university," Dr. Martin called before walking back into the dining room. He sat in the chair across from Elijah and laid the letters out on the table. "He dated them for a week after the audition, so you just have to make sure you time the arrival correctly to avoid suspicion on her point."

"That shouldn't be a problem," he commented, looking over the forged letters and signatures. They seemed authentic enough. "Your friend does good work."

"He works at the university, so it wasn't difficult for him to get his hands on a computer at the admissions office," he said with a shrug. "The scholarship paperwork, however, I had to make myself." He slid a thick manila envelope across the table to Elijah. "You can give that to the girl the day after the audition."

"Perfect." Elijah gathered all of the papers together and stood up. "I'll contact you as soon as everything is set up."

"Elijah, there's something else, about..." he trailed off, not sure how to phrase what he was trying to say. "This Elizabeth Knight... I've read about her."

"I know what's written about her, doctor," Elijah said calmly, not wanting to get into the details that surrounded the witch. The details included words such as "insane", "loose cannon" and "terrifying", and explaining every single one of those words would take much more time than he had. "You just focus on what I've told you to."

"I don't think you understand," he pressed. "This curse, it's unlike anything I've ever seen before. Even if she was able to get help from another powerful witch, to be able to perform such a solid bind to an entire lineage..." He shook his head in disbelief. "She is far stronger than either of us will be able to control." Elijah looked the man over, taking in the furrowed brow, anxious frown and imploring stare. "Are you sure that breaking the curse is the best course of action? Maybe it's better that she's restrained now in the psychic's body."

Elijah looked him steadily in the eye. "Let me worry about Elizabeth," Elijah suggested. The doctor knew it was an order, though, and not a suggestion, so he complied. "You focus on figuring out ways to break the curse, and I'll focus on getting the girl out of Mystic Falls. If anyone can manage to kill Klaus without the doppelganger, it's Elizabeth, and if anyone can find the way to do it, it will be Mikaela."

"What makes her different from the other witches?" Dr. Martin exclaimed. "Or the Knight child, for that matter?" Clearly, there was something about Elizabeth that worried him, because the warlock never gave Elijah so much trouble about an order. Elijah considered telling him why he was bothering with the two of them specifically, but then thought better of it and shook his head.

"Don't make me repeat myself," he warned, smiling pleasantly. "You break her curse, and then we'll break Klaus's and get your daughter back."

Dr. Martin opened his mouth to object, but bit his tongue and thought better of it. "Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "I'll see what I can find." With that, Elijah nodded and walked himself out of the house, closing the door behind him. The Louisiana air hit him with a physical force as he stepped onto the porch, looking around at the familiar front yard under the night sky. He'd spent many nights walking into the home, but never had he left it with such high hopes.

When Bree had contacted him several weeks before telling him that the youngest Knight girl was living in Mystic Falls and already knee-deep in supernatural business, he hadn't had the greatest of expectations. Even so, he'd called said girl under the guise of working as her dance instructor, with the hope of getting possibly another witch on his task force, or even just a human with knowledge of magic, depending on if she'd taken after her useless normal human father or her witch mother. The last thing he'd expected was that she'd be haunted by a curse that brought forth an impossible opportunity: Elizabeth Knight, his magical prodigy, back from the dead.

All he had to do was get rid of that inconvenient curse, and revenge would be his for the taking.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Please please pleeeease review!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	34. Can't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

**As Spain would have it, the Internet sucks, and Spaniards loooove to assign us essays to take away from fanfiction-writing time.**

**Even so, I've been working on this chapter for a while, and it's been taking so long because... Well... THIS STORY IS ENDING! **

**Yes, you heard me, it's ending. I'm working on the sequel and I already know how I want this story to end, but I'd like to know how you guys would feel about that. I've been getting a surplus of reviews from you all, and I can't begin to describe how AMAZING you guys have been with me. It's crazy, I remember starting this story on a whim in high school, and now it's ending... *nostalgia**

**Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I don't bother explaining the anti-vampire device too much, because in here, Damon just handles it as more of an after thought, and Mikaela has zero involvement. Also, I don't explain much about Elijah or Dr. Martin. If you haven't seen the second season, you should- it's GREAT! ****I think that after this, there will be one chapter and then the epilogue, which will only be published once I have the sequel up and running so that you guys can jump straight to it.**

**I'm going to answer your reviews first thing in the morning tomorrow :) (Spain time+daylight savings time= pretty big time difference)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Gritting his teeth and smiling: two things Damon wasn't good at.

"You know, you'd think you'd be better at pretending to be happy," Diane commented, crossing her arms and leaning against the hood of the car. "I was under the impression you were an excellent liar." It was around three o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was out and shining bright over the parking lot in front of D'Angelo's and a pleasant breeze blew over them, but he was completely oblivious to the great weather. All that mattered at that particular moment was going on inside that redbrick dance studio, and as much as he'd forced himself to smile for the previous three hours, his facial muscles were exhausted.

Benji snickered and moved to stand next to Diane. "He's worried she'll move on from vampires when she's accepted tot he program," he said gleefully.

"_If _she gets accepted," Damon reminded him tightly. "Am I the only one who recognizes that this is an _audition_?" Benji scoffed.

"She's getting in," he stated with complete confidence. "That coach of hers is doing everything possible to make sure of that."

"Unless he resorts to the supernatural or takes illegal measures, he can't guarantee she's going to pass unless she's good enough," Damon said flatly. As much as he tried to hide it, Benji's words were hitting a nerve he didn't want to admit he had.

"You know, some people just happen to have connections," Benji pointed out condescendingly. "You know, people who don't have to compel others to do what they want?"

"Okay, that's enough!" Diane exclaimed before Damon could shoot a retort. "For goodness' sake, how old are you two?" Just as she was going to continue her scolding, the front door of the dance studio opened and Mikaela stepped out, cringing as the sunlight hit her face.

He couldn't help it: that girl always had him on his toes. As she shielded her eyes from the sun and walked in their direction, he looked her over, not leaving out a single detail. She had changed out of her leotard and had opted instead for a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a jacket; even dressed so simply, she stood out from the other dancers in the parking lot, at least in his eyes. When she met his gaze and smiled, he couldn't help but smile back, genuinely, unlike he'd been doing since he'd arrived at the damn dance studio. He stepped forward to greet her, but Benji beat him to it, throwing his arms around her and lifting her in the air.

"You were amazing!" he exclaimed, and even Damon could tell that he was being truthful. Mikaela smiled widely and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Thank you!" she gushed, laughing when he spun them around in a circle. "Benji!" she squealed. "I'm gonna get dizzy!"

"Fine," he conceded, setting her down. Diane stepped forward and gripped her daughter's shoulders affectionately.

"So?" she asked expectantly. "What did the coach say?"

Mikaela's eyes flitted over to Damon and she quickly looked down, clearing her throat. "I... I'll know in a couple of days," she answered. "But apparently I did very well. They were impressed, considering how long I've been out of commission." She hesitated as she said the words, something she never did. Something was wrong. Damon watched with distant eyes as Diane held Mikaela tightly, shaking her head and whispering things only the teenager could hear.

And yet, Mikaela's eyes were glued to him. She was waiting for his reaction, something other than the blank expression he wore. He could see a mess of confusion on her face, but all of it was subdued, expectant. Swallowing his pride and his own emotions, he smirked and reached forward, ruffling her hair.

"Good job, Twinkle Toes," he said huskily. "You're not that bad after all." Benji gave him a look, silently thanking him for the act, but Damon couldn't bring himself to return it. She looked at him steadily before turning away, saying something to her mother. She released her, and in a second, she had her arms wrapped around Damon's waist.

"It's okay," she muttered. "If you're not happy, that is. But thanks for pretending." Too quickly she pulled away and turned to Diane and Benji, smiling tentatively. "Hungry?"

"Starving," Benji agreed enthusiastically, dropping an arm over her shoulders and steering her to the car. Diane stayed staring at Damon, apparently surprised by Mikaela's show of affection. "Damon, no moping! We're having Mexican food in Richmond!"

"Dick," Damon muttered. Diane frowned and narrowed her eyes at him. He felt like he'd been caught doing something wrong, but couldn't figure out what it was. Until she spoke, of course.

"Are you the reason why she was so certain she wasn't pregnant?" Diane asked bluntly, crossing her arms. The question caught him off guard and he blinked, but before he could give her a smart response, she groaned and held up a hand to silence him. "Dear God, I think I'm going to vomit."

He wasn't sure what else to say, but she didn't give him much chance, either. Running a hand through her hair, she walked past him to the car she'd arrived with Benji in, practically jumping into the driver's seat and turning on the car. Damon cursed as the doctor drove off after Mikaela's car, leaving him standing very awkwardly alone in the parking lot.

What the hell was he supposed to do when his secret girlfriend's mother found out he'd accidentally taken away her virginity?

That was simply one of those situations that never got less awkward.

* * *

**Several Days Later:**

_Fire, everywhere. _

_She stood in the center of a circle of fire, the roaring wind making it impossible to hear anything while the smell of smoke damn near suffocated her where she stood. Mikaela shielded her eyes from the light and squinted as a figure became visible amongst the flames, a man walking through the wall towards her. _

"_Hello?" she called, taking a step forward. Wood cracked under her feet, but she paid it no mind and advanced forward. "Hello! Please, tell me-!" She gasped and stopped as something grabbed her ankle desperately. She looked down at the person lying at her feet, surprised to find Mayor Lockwood looked up at her imploringly, his grip on her like steel._

"_You have to help Tyler," he said, shaking her. A shadow crawled along his back, but he didn't even seem to notice and reached up, gripping her hand. "Please, Mikaela, you've always been my favorite. Protect-!" His eyes widened and he choked on his words as the shadow descended on his face. His grip on her slackened, and right before her eyes, he froze and burst into a cloud of ash. Involuntarily she screamed and scrambled back, crashing into somebody in the process. She whorled around to see Elena, her hair perfectly curled and a slick smile on her face._

"_Elena?" she exclaimed in confusion. "What are you-?"_

_Elena reached forward and gripped Mikaela's throat, lifting her off the ground with a sneer. "Guess again," she said, right before tossing her into the fire. _

_Mikaela braced herself for the burning, but was surprised when she fell onto stone. The fire was gone and the room was silent, as well as cold. She looked around, trying to get her bearings, but it was so dark she could hardly see. The light switched on, revealing that she was crouched in the middle of a waiting room, on top of an out-of-place slab of stone. When she looked down at herself, she saw that she wore jeans and a jacket, not her usual apparel when she was having a dream. _

_There was a dark fireplace to the side, and staring into the dark hole stood Damon, a large white envelope in his hands. She recognized the logo as the university she'd auditioned for, and wondered what he was doing with her letter. "Damon?" she called questioningly. He looked up at her and smiled pleasantly._

"_Hey there Twinkle Toes," he greeted. With a flourish he tossed the letter into the empty fireplace, but the moment it hit the floor, flames burst to life and consumed it. "You ready yet?"_

"_Ready for what?" she asked, getting to her feet. He took a step back. "Damon, please-"_

"_Are you ready?"_

_She whorled around to find that Smith stood only a foot away, hands clasped behind his back as he regarded her calmly. She shook her head, confused. "I don't understand, Smith," she said tiredly. "Ready for what?"_

"_Please, call me Elijah."_

"_Fine, Elijah," she corrected, rubbing her forehead. "Look, I really don't-"_

"_Too bad."_

_Elena stepped out from behind Elijah then, a predatory smirk on her face. The evil nature behind the expression was so out of character for her that, for a moment, Mikaela couldn't believe it was her. "Is she ready?" she asked Elijah. He nodded._

"_She has to be."_

"_No, I'm not," Mikaela argued, moving back. Taking a closer look at Elena, she realized what was so off about her. "You're not Elena. You're Katherine."_

_Katherine grinned, her fangs glinting in the firelight. "Well, aren't you the smart one?" she commented sarcastically, looking back at Elijah. "Should we make this quick or drag it out?"_

"_Ask her," Elijah answered, gesturing at Mikaela. She gritted her teeth angrily._

"_Why isn't anyone listening to me?" she exclaimed in frustration, balling her fists. "I'm telling you, I'm not-!"_

"_Let's get this over with."_

_Mikaela let out a yell and turned around, ready to fight whoever was interrupting her, only to freeze. There was nothing behind her except for a full-length mirror, the glass coated with a light layer of dust. She looked at her reflection to see a young woman a couple of years older than her standing there, dressed in the same clothes, but with darker skin and bright green eyes. Her long brown hair was tied in a braid and her dainty hands were pressed against the glass, as if she were simply admiring what was beyond it with casual curiosity. _

_But Mikaela knew better and shook her head, barely concealing the horror. Elizabeth stepped forward out of the mirror and made a gesture at Katherine. "I'm done with this host," she said nonchalantly, waving a hand at Mikaela. "Finish her off." She went to make a break for the door, but before she could even take a step, Katherine had grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the floor._

"_You heard the woman," she said teasingly, increasing the pressure on Mikaela's windpipe. "Don't worry, it will only hurt for a second..."_

* * *

She woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the front door. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she was covered in a cold sweat, her hands shaking violently from shock. Her legs had been thrown over the arm of the sofa and her head hung from the edge of the couch, causing a wave of painful dizziness to wash over her as she sat up. With a groan she rubbed her neck and closed her eyes, fighting off the dizziness.

"Leave me alone," she muttered grumpily, testing out her feet on the floor. She hadn't been expecting any visitors, and when she tried to sense who had arrived, she got a blank. Figuring the person wouldn't go away if she ignored them long enough, she forced herself to her feet and shakily made her way to the front door. When she checked through the peek-hole, she was surprised by who she saw there and pulled it open, a smile immediately spreading across her face.

"Elijah, hi!" she greeted. "How are you?"

"Quite well, Mikaela," Elijah answered, nodding. He looked exactly as he always did, dressed in his regular suit with his same passive, but friendly expression."I take it that you've received the news."

She cocked her head to the side questioningly. "What news?"

He opened his mouth, but paused before answering. "Is that... blood?" he asked. She frowned and touched a finger under her nose where he had gestured. Surely enough, a drop of bright red blood smeared across her fingertip.

"I guess it is," she murmured. Holding her hand to her nose to stop the blood from dripping on the floor, she stepped back quickly. "I'm sorry, come in and make yourself at home. I'll only be a second."

He smiled and nodded, accepting her invitation. "Take your time." He stepped inside and she closed the door, leading him to the living room. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm sure it's nothing," she said reassuringly, hurrying to her mother's bedroom. "I'll be right back!"

Once in the master bathroom, she rinsed her hand out under the water and wiped down her face, cleaning off all the blood. As calm as she was about the nosebleed, she couldn't understand why she'd be having one. She wasn't very prone to nosebleeds- hell, the last time she remembered having one, it had been a result of her fight with Vicki Donovan- and it seemed strange that she'd have one because of a nightmare.

Once all of the evidence was washed away, she hurried back to the living room. Elijah stood by the fireplace, a photograph in a wooden frame held in his hand. She knew which photograph it was within a second, and smiled warmly.

"That's from when my dad and Uncle Zach took me to Florida," she explained, standing next to him. He held out the picture to her and she put it back on top of the fireplace. "I think I was twelve or something."

"Your parents are separated?" he inquired, sitting in one of the armchairs. "It seems like you miss him." She shook her head.

"No, they're still married," she said, dropping onto the couch she'd fallen asleep on. "My dad's in a coma." A short silence passed, and she looked over her shoulder at him with an apologetic smile. "Yeah, sorry, that's always a conversation-stopper."

"I'm apologize, I had no idea," he said, and from his expression, she could tell that he meant it. She nodded, smiling gratefully. "I lost my mother, so I can understand to an extent." Before she could say anything, he cut her off with a grateful look. "Don't worry, it was many years ago."

"I'm sorry," she muttered anyways. "You never talk about your family," she noted, trying to change the subject slightly. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Several, but we've lost contact over the years," he said casually enough. Even though she couldn't read him as easily as she could everyone else, she could sense there was more to the statement than he'd meant to let on. "How are your mother and Benji handling the news?"

She'd told him about Benji, introducing him as a distant cousin of her mother's. Though Elijah hadn't met her mother or Benji yet, he'd heard about them through her, and seemed particularly interested that they be a part of the application process. At the mention of "the news", she remembered the reason he was there in the first place.

"They're very excited about the scholarship," she replied. "Mom is already making arrangements in case I get in, so that I can use her frequent flier miles and visit."

"'In case'?" he repeated. She laughed.

"I appreciate your confidence, but the chances of me getting in-"

"Mikaela, you've been accepted."

She froze, completely caught by surprise. She crossed her arms and leaned back, trying to keep her face calm as she processed what he was saying. "I-I'm sorry, Smith, I haven't received-"

"I left it in your mailbox earlier this week," he explained, looking at her with slight confusion. "Your friend with the black hair was sitting on the porch."

Her heart started to pound in her ears, and she could swear that she was beginning to see red. "Damon?" she asked tightly. "Leather jacket, blue eyes?"

"I believe so."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Betrayal shot through her as she realized what had happened, and made the connection with her strange dream. The need to cause bodily harm shot through her arms. The remote control on the coffee table started shaking and she immediately snapped her hand over it, not needing any displays of magic catching Elijah's attention. "It... I guess it must be around here... somewhere," she forced through gritted teeth. She took a deep breath: she'd handle Damon later. Concern crossed his face.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said, standing up. "I just thought you would want to know about your acceptance as soon as possible."

"No, really, thank you so much for telling me," she said quickly, not wanting him to think she was upset with him. "I truly appreciate it. I... I have to tell my mom, so we can start making arrangements." She let out a short laugh as she realized what he'd just told her. Shaking her head, she ran a hand through her hair. "Wow, this is... Wow." Despite her anger, a sense of excitement was gripping her, and she couldn't help but smile as he sat down next to her. He handed her a handkerchief, and not even the fact that her nose had started bleeding again could ruin her joy. "I got in. I can't believe...!"

Elijah smiled and patted her on the back. "Congratulations."

"Thank you!"

"I'm heading to New York in a week, so if it's alright with your mother, I could take you up there to see the university." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "Ultimately, the choice is yours if you want to attend-"

Without warning she shot forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him with as much strength as she could muster. She was careful to keep the handkerchief pressed to her nose to keep blood from smearing his clothes, but she didn't loosen her grip. He laughed and awkwardly petted the top of her head. "Thank you, so much," she whispered, her eyes welling up with tears. "I couldn't have done it without you."

He hesitated before speaking, but after deliberating, he smiled and rested his chin on top of her head. "It... It was my pleasure, Mikaela." And yet, even though she could sense he was smiling, she felt a trace of guilt from him, and wondered what on earth he could have to feel guilty about.

* * *

"So, now that Bonnie's deactivated the anti-vampire device, we've given it to Isobel, and Jeremy has been returned home, what's left to do to save the vampires of Mystic Falls?" Damon asked sarcastically, walking back into the boarding house. Stefan trailed after him, dropping his backpack by the door.

"You know, Bonnie did just save our lives," he reminded him. "If she hadn't deactivated it-"

"I know, I know, who knows what could have been done with it?" Damon said with mock horror. "Doesn't mean I like her any more."

They walked into the parlor and Damon settled onto one of the seats after pouring himself a drink. Stefan looked at him curiously, crossing his arms as Damon started on his drink. "You and Mikaela are still together, aren't you?" Stefan pointed out. "So, even if what they did was wrong, don't you think there's room for some forgiveness?"

"Nice tact, subtly trying to figure out if we're an item," Damon muttered. "Next thing I know, you're gonna be asking about my Facebook relationship status."

"Don't avoid the subject," Stefan warned, sitting down across from him. "I just want to make sure she doesn't get hurt."

"What's your sudden concern with the psychic?" Damon asked, narrowing his eyes at him. "I'm sure that Elena wouldn't approve of you crushing on her neighbor."

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it?" he pressed. "Don't think I haven't noticed you watching her ever since the Cellar Incident." Stefan sighed and rubbed his forehead: they'd already had the conversation before, and it hadn't ended well.

"For your information, I just happen to be concerned-"

"Oh save it, Stefan," Damon snapped, getting to his feet and stepping forward. Stefan stood up at well, determination on his face. "Before then, you were practically drooling over her every chance you could get. Suddenly, you're concerned for her as if she weren't just a walking blood bag? What's the _real _reason you suddenly want to tell Mikaela that she deserves more than I can offer?" Before Stefan could answer, realization dawned on Damon. "You're remembering, aren't you?"

Stefan looked like he wanted to deny it, but after only a second of considering it, he caved and let out a sigh. Damon laughed victoriously and finished his drink. "Well, look here! Stefan's been watching Mikaela to get to Elizabeth! How sweet is that?"

"It's not-"

"Stefan's _finally _remembered his BFF from his big, bad human days!" he went on, waving a hand theatrically. "Now, he's trying to see if he can break the curse, and bring back sweet, victimized Elizabeth from the dead! Little does he know what a royal bitch-"

"Don't talk about her like that!" Stefan snapped suddenly, catching Damon by surprise. "There's more to this curse than you think."

"What the hell makes you think you know more about Elizabeth than I do?" Damon exclaimed. "I was _engaged _to the woman, and I want nothing more than to make sure she drops dead. You have no clue what she's done to Mikaela." When Stefan silenced, Damon nodded. "Smart: don't fight when you don't know the whole story."

Before Stefan could inquire more, someone by the entrance cleared their throat, and the brothers turned around. Mikaela stood there with her arms crossed and a blank expression on her face. "Mikaela," Stefan started, but he didn't get to finish whatever he was going to say.

"Stealing someone's mail is a federal offense," she stated loudly, eyes fixed on Damon. She held out her hand, jaw set tight. "Give it to me, now."

Damon scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't know what-"

"Damon, I'm going to New York regardless of if you give me my letter or not," she cut off, the anger slipping in to her voice. "Elijah told me I was accepted. So give it to me, now."

A tense silence descended, and without a word, Stefan excused himself. Once his brother had left, Damon sighed and put down his drink. He could tell things were going to get ugly, and was cursing himself for not preparing for the particular scenario in which she'd figured him out. "Kaela-"

"How could you?" she exclaimed. "This is my _future_! You know how hard I worked for this!"

And just like that, he took the defensive approach. "Don't make this out to be my fault! Elizabeth isn't going to let you attend anyways," Damon argued, no longer bothering to pretend he hadn't stolen the letter. "You know how obsessed she is-"

"With you? Believe me, I know!" she yelled, all control over her anger gone. "Everything is about you! I'm possessed by my ancestor who has no other purpose in life but to be with you! And now, after all that I've done for you and everything we've been through together, you, the one person I was stupid enough to trust, went behind my back and took my future into your own hands! Who the hell do you think you are?"

He knew she was right, about every word, but he wouldn't- couldn't- back down, not without a fight. The circumstances were as much her fault as they were his. "Who the hell do I think _I _am?" he exclaimed, barking a laugh. "What about you, Mikaela?"

"Me?" she repeated, raising a brow.

"Yes, you," he spat. "Don't think I don't notice what's going on here."

"Enlighten me," she challenged. He laughed.

"'Elijah'?" he shot back. At that she scoffed and shook her head. "Since when are you on a first-name basis with him?"

"You're delusional," she muttered. "There's nothing going on between us."

"Why else would he be helping an out-of-action, half-rate dancer?"

The insult slipped out before he could stop it, spurred on by her defending her relationship with her coach. He had a bad feeling about the guy, and she didn't even seem to care. Her jaw dropped, and the hurt flashed unbidden across her eyes. Collecting herself, she shook her head and held up a hand.

"Resorting to name-calling, are we?" she said disbelievingly. "Is that what you think of me?" He couldn't think of anything to say as the full weight of what he'd said sunk in, and she balled her fists, taking a shaky breath. He saw her eyes glisten with tears and he felt his chest seem to cave.

"Mikaela, I-"

"I don't want to hear it, Damon!" she interrupted. She shook her head and turned around. "Forget it, I'm done with you. Keep the damn letter." He tried to follow her, but when he took a step forward, mind-blowing pain exploded in his head. He let out a yell and collapsed, gripping his head between his two hands as his knees hit the floor. The pain ended in a second, but when he looked up, she was gone.

He knew he'd screwed up, and couldn't even understand why he'd said everything he'd said. He was angry and lashing out, and because of it, had pushed away the one person who'd taken the worst of him and still stuck around.

And somehow, he knew that she wasn't coming back.

* * *

Elijah surveyed the studio apartment carefully, taking in the open space and the wall of windows that showed the Chicago skyline with an appreciative eye. A tall King-sized bed with plush green comforters was pushed against the wall, and across from it was the single couch and a modest television set. He didn't think she would be spending much time in front of the television, but the gesture didn't go unnoticed by him.

"It's perfect," he concluded, turning to his contact. He hadn't thought much of the boy when he'd first started working with him, but as time had passed, it had become clear that he couldn't have found anyone more dedicated than the young college student. Convincing him that he would be able to get his father out of jail hadn't hurt, either. "How did you find it?"

"Hector has a friend who owes him a favor," he replied, crossing his arms. The boy's accent wasn't as strong as said brother's was, but Elijah could easily tell that the boy had spent many years in the windy city. "Should I sign the contract?"

"Yes," he confirmed, looking around again with a nod. "I think she'll appreciate the view, after so many years of confinement."

The boy nodded, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "I'll tell Hector, then," he decided, and wrote a quick text to his brother. "How long should I make the lease for?"

"A year," Elijah answered, making his way to the bed. He'd already searched Mikaela's room and had asked for a bed just as tall. The funny part was that the bed in her room was very similar in design to the bed Elizabeth had once owned. He wondered how many other similarities Mikaela was unaware existed between her and her ancestor.

"Alright, I'll be signing the paperwork tonight with Nick's father," he announced, snapping his phone shut. "When can we meet up so I can give you the key and invite you in?"

"I'll stop by the studio tomorrow," he replied, and turned to the boy. He noticed a sense of hesitation in his face, as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure it would be wise. "Is something troubling you?"

"The... The girl," he forced out, clearing his throat. "What is going to happen to her?"

He should have expected him to ask that question. "I have my witches searching for a solution to make sure that both girls live," he said carefully. As much as he knew that he wouldn't turn on him, he didn't want the human to have too much information.

"And if they don't find a solution?"

Elijah sighed and stepped closer to him. "I think you know the answer to that, Gavin."

Gavin frowned and nodded. "Mikaela will die," he said anyway, needing to say it out loud. He's expected a certain level of hesitation from him: dance partners had a chemistry that not everyone could understand, and it was a challenge to be an honest dancer on hardwood floors when you'd been reporting your partner's every move for the past two years to a man who could possibly kill her. Looking him straight in the eye, Elijah nodded.

"If I can't find a solution, then Mikaela will die," he confirmed. "Will you still be able to do this, or will I have to compel you?"

Gavin didn't say anything for a moment, but after some thought, he looked up and shook his head. "There will be no need," he stated. "I'll do what I have to do."

* * *

She shouldn't have been able to run the whole way home, but as it turned out, training had made it possible. She couldn't even completely remember what had happened: all she'd known was that Damon had said something to make her snap, and the next thing she knew, she was running down the desolate road that led from the Salvatore house to the main road. Somewhere about halfway home, she remembered that there were still several Tomb Vampires loose, but rather than make her stop and pull out her cellphone, the reminder spurred her forward even faster.

A part of her wanted to curl up on the side of the road and cry in self-pity. She'd sensed every ounce of anger and resentment in his words, and that had hurt more than even the act of betrayal could have. But she refused to let him have any more power over her than he already did. Maybe it was better that things end so explosively between them: it would be easier to leave that way.

After all, they were pretty much doomed from the start. Hell, "the start" had been him killing her, and their first romantic encounters had been under the influence of a love spell. To top it all off, even if there were no love spell and she were openly madly in love with him, she didn't even have a choice in regards to their future: she was the one human in the world who was physically incapable of becoming a vampire! Their relationship brought star-crossed to a whole new level, and if him stealing her letter had done anything, it had proved her suspicions about them right.

Her feet pounded down on the road where her house was, and she was grateful to see that Elena's car wasn't parked in front of her house. She'd been avoiding the girl, but it was starting to become more and more difficult. She slowed as she approached her home, and felt relief swoop through her to sense that neither Benji nor Diane were home. Panting and with her hands shaking from exertion, she bolted up the steps to the porch and pulled her keys out of her pocket.

"Kaela..."

She jumped in surprise and whorled around, groaning when she saw him. She shouldn't have been so shocked. Damon suddenly stood in the walkway, holding up his hands as if calling a truce.

"What? Here to insult me?" she spat between breaths, suddenly wishing she could look as collected as he did. Her face was burning from her body heat and she was certain she was covered in sweat, while he'd run over in less than a minute and looked as calm as ever. Then again, he didn't look as confident as she'd first thought. His hair was disheveled as if he'd been running his hands through it, and when he met her eyes, he looked... nervous? He lowered his gaze and took a deep breath.

"No," he said quietly, taking a step forward. She immediately moved back, and she saw him frown at the action. "Are you scared of me?"

"I haven't decided," she lied. No, she wasn't scared of him in the way he thought, but she didn't want to give him the chance to hurt her anymore. He nodded, accepting that. "What do you want, Damon?" she repeated.

"I'm... not sure," he admitted. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Pushing the key into the lock, she opened the front door.

"Just go away," she grumbled. She was more irritated at that point than hurt, and just wanted him to leave her alone. "I don't have the energy for you."

"Please, let me explain," he began, but she cut him off, holding up a hand.

She sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Damon, I have a life to live," she said tiredly. "It's enough with Elizabeth's interference and Bonnie's stupid love spell; I can't forgive you just trying to take my future into your own-"

"I know," he quickly agreed. "And I'm so sorry-"

"I get that, I do!" she interrupted, and judging by his expression, that surprised him. "I have no doubt that you're sorry for stealing my letter, but that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

This time she took longer to respond. "We... This can't go anywhere," she answered after a moment. "I can't become a vampire, I'm possessed by your ex-fiancee, and there are things I want to do in life." She let out a laugh. "I want to dance, and I want to travel the world dancing! And whether you're ready to admit it or not, you still need closure with Katherine." She turned to step into the house. "It's just better that we part ways, now."

"You're scared." The disbelief in his voice made her cringe, and the truth in his words made her want to hide. She didn't consider herself the kind of person that wanted to hide, and yet, under his scrutiny, that was what she wanted to do, because she knew he could see right through her. "You're running away."

"Yes, Damon," she admitted, albeit spitefully. "I'm running away from a destructive relationship, slash non-relationship. My bad."

"Liar," he spat. "You know it's not just that." She scoffed.

"Again with the name-calling," she muttered, shaking her head. "Look, just let me go. We're better off ending this before it goes too far." He cursed under his breath and surged forward, stopping in front of her.

"Go to New York," he said, his voice lowering, but the intent loud and clear. "Go dance. But don't pretend that we can just walk away from this."

"Damon, we-"

"I can't!" he growled, his face close enough that she felt his breath as he said the words. "Mikaela, I can't." He sucked in a breath and looked her full in the eyes, the full force of his gaze keeping her frozen to the spot. "When I came back and saw you'd survived my attack at the cafe, I couldn't get rid of you. Your taste, your smell, they haunted me." She stayed silent, watching him with wary eyes. It had been an unspoken rule to not talk about the night of the attack, seeing as it was one of those discussions that could never end well, and yet there he was, speaking about the taste of her blood when was only inches away.

"I tried everything to get you out of the picture," he continued, laughing humorlessly. "Hell, even when I was trying to find a way to kill you, I was dying to kiss you. It was everything to not rip you apart every time we were alone." He ran the back of his hand down her cheek, and for some reason, she didn't shrink away. She shouldn't have felt so much comfort from the gesture, but she did. "And after everything I did to you, you tried to help me. Mikaela, you... You've had every reason to leave, and you haven't." He paused, searching for words. "And now, you want me to just _let you go_? I can't!"

"Damon-"

"Mikaela, I'm falling for you."

And no amount of compulsion or physical force could have made her silence as quickly as those words did. She blinked, waiting for him to take the words back or for him to feel a flash of regret, but he didn't. All she sensed from him was conviction. "W-what?" she breathed out, although she was certain she'd heard him correctly. When she looked at him and concentrated, she could feel the doubts: Katherine, Elizabeth, New York... And yet, he didn't even seem to see them. She waited for him to remember them, but he was so caught up in the moment that he didn't.

"I mean it," he insisted, lowering his voice, but stepping even closer. "So, even if you want me to... I don't think I can let you go." She gulped, not knowing how to respond. A relationship relied on more than just feelings, it required some sort of stability, and Katherine, Elizabeth and New York were the enemies of stability. Those little things he'd momentarily forgotten, they'd drive them apart. They weren't problems that would disappear if she ignored them. And yet... She wanted to. She pulled his hands away from her and stepped into her house, relieved that he didn't stop her. He looked at her, imploring her for a reaction, and she cleared her throat.

"Would you... like to come in?"

* * *

It wasn't perfect in any way, shape or form, but two hours later, she realized it had snuck up on her.

They were sitting across from each other on her bed, discussing what music had the right to be classified as "real music" and comparing different bands (all from her century, to be fair). Only minutes before he'd been joking about looking for apartments in New York, a comment that had spurred a long discussion of his adventures in the Big Apple. She could tell that he was intentionally leaving out the killing parts, and yet, she found herself not as bothered by it as she should have been.

He had just finished classifying Aerosmith, and noticed that while she was looking at him, she wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying. "Am I boring you?" he'd asked, and before she'd been able to object, he'd crossed to her side of the bed and caged her in with his arms.

She hadn't put up any resistance as he'd leaned down and kissed her, his lips surprisingly hesitant at first. He'd quickly gained confidence as she'd pulled him closer, leaning back so they were laying flat against the mattress. He'd gone from kissing her to kissing her neck, and staring up at the ceiling, it hit her with amazing force.

She wasn't scared of him.

Somehow, she knew that even if her neck was completely exposed and her mother was knocked out asleep in her room, he wouldn't hurt her. He... cared about her. She couldn't bring herself to comprehend the idea that he loved her (she didn't think it would be possible for him to love anyone with Katherine still in the background), but she knew that he would protect her if she were in danger, and wanted her close to him; such a strange thought, considering how much he tried pushing people away half the time.

And an even stranger thought when she considered how much she'd hated him not so long before. He'd snuck up on her, crawled his way under her skin when she'd least expected it, and rooted himself there. She didn't dare call it love, but a part of her... a part of her wanted to, despite the unlikeliness of anything ever growing out of it.

He stopped after a moment, propping himself up on his elbows and looking at her questioningly. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice husky. "You know, you, me, in your bed, your mom downstairs..."

And just like that, the hunger took over. Feeling an inner strength she hadn't felt in a while, she pushed him onto his back, pinning down his shoulders and straddling his waist. He stared up at her with wide eyes and she leaned down, kissing him up his neck. "That's what your vampire hearing is for," she whispered, and could have sworn she felt him shiver. Smiling, she continued her trail up to his ear and spanned her hands flat over his chest. "And if I sense anyone..." She flicked out her tongue against his ear lobe. "... I'll be sure to let you know."

"Mikaela..." he warned, her name coming out like a growl. When she nibbled on his pulse he grabbed her arms and rolled her over, earning himself a mischievous giggle from her. He pinned her down with his body and grabbed her wrists, holding them to her sides. "Who's the vampire here?"

She cocked a brow at him and looked around. "I don't know, I don't see any around here," she said with a shrug. She let out a shriek as he playfully bit her shoulder, making his point. "Okay, fine!" she exclaimed, laughing as he released her. "You win." He bared his fangs at her and she rolled her eyes. "Show off." He retracted his fangs and she chuckled, running a thumb over his duller incisors. She ran her hand along his cheek affectionately and noticed his blue eyes searching hers for something.

"What?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. He shook his head and smiled.

"Nothing," he assured her. She raised a brow. "Really." When she wasn't convinced, he bent down and kissed her, a sense of insistence in the action. Deciding it was better to let that question go, she went along and kissed him back, pulling him flush against her. She felt like her skin was on fire, vibrating with excitement, and like her chest was going to burst. Their circumstances passed through her head and she realized that the road they were going down was one that they might not be able to turn back from, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. Just as his hands trailed down to the hem of her shirt, she heard a car pull into the driveway.

Damon groaned and dropped his forehead lightly to rest on top of hers. "Damn creepy ex-brother-in-law," he muttered. Mikaela couldn't help but snicker at the look of disappointment on his face, and the name he had for Benji.

"When you say that, it makes me feel like I'm making out with a divorcee," she commented. He quirked a brow at her and nuzzled her neck.

"Would it make a difference?" he asked.

"Yeah, that would be gross," she stated teasingly. He growled and she laughed, but made sure to keep her voice down in case Benji stepped out of the car. "You have to leave."

"I do," he confirmed. "Vampire sense of hearing and all."

She nodded. "Alright."

The stayed silent for a moment, and the car turned off in the driveway. All humor gone from his eyes, he looked at her with a serious intensity and tucked her hair behind her ear. "See you tomorrow?" he asked. It was such a simple question, but she could sense the weight in the words. He wasn't just asking about "tomorrow", and they both knew that. Looking him straight in the eyes, she nodded.

"See you tomorrow."

He let out a light breath he'd been holding and leaned closer. "Good night, Twinkle Toes." He kissed her then, a gentle touch of their lips with a light caress on her cheek. She'd never been treated with such affection before, and as she closed her eyes and melted into the feeling, she felt three words pass from him to her, unspoken, but reaching her loud and clear. She opened her eyes with a gasp and he was gone, only seconds before the front door opened.

"I've arrived," Benji announced from the foyer. "Someone _please _tell me there are still leftovers from last night." When nobody answered, she heard him sigh. "Mikaela, are you giving me the silent treatment? I hear you up there."

She stared up at the ceiling, her heart racing wildly in her chest and her eyes wide with surprise. On the porch, he'd expressed a sense of in-between feelings, but when he'd kissed her good night, she'd sensed the truth. He hadn't wanted her to know, that much she was certain of, but she'd heard his thoughts nonetheless.

"Kaela!"

"I'm coming!" she exclaimed exasperatedly, shooting to her feet. Even as she ran down the stairs and greeted Benji, keeping up a casual facade, it was almost impossible to keep the smile off of her face. The connection had only lasted a second, just long enough for her to hear those three, completely impossible words.

_I love you._

* * *

"What is the verdict, Doctor?"

Doctor Martin didn't look up from his book, a grave expression on his face. Without words, he told Elijah everything he needed to know, and the Original nodded. Dr. Martin shook his head and rubbed his temple. "We aren't supposed to kill each other, much less children," he said, a deep emotion backing his voice. "That's not what we were given our gifts for."

A silence passed between them, broken only by the sound of the TV in the other room. Dr. Martin's son, Luka, was watching some sports game, an activity as normal as it was ironic when it was taken into consideration that, not even twenty feet away, they were discussing the coming death of a girl his age.

"Your daughter," Elijah reminded him. "Once Elizabeth does what we need her to, then she will be free." That thought calmed him, and taking a deep breath, he collected himself. "Are you sure there's no other way?" Elijah asked, although he knew the answer. The doctor wouldn't tell him anything if he wasn't sure.

Dr. Martin crossed his arms and frowned. "It's the balance," he stated, shaking his head with frustration. "If she lives, Mikaela will have to die. There is no way to make human life without a sacrifice, and I don't have the power to tie her to Elizabeth the same way that Elizabeth tied herself to her bloodline, even temporarily until she does her job." He stood up and braced his hands against the desk. "Are you certain that Mikaela isn't strong enough to do it herself? Or to tap into Elizabeth's magic?"

"In their current state, Mikaela's energy as a psychic is clashing with Elizabeth's," Elijah explained. "Even if we were to suppress her powers, there's no guarantee her body will be able to handle it." He thought for a moment, and nodded. "So, is that all?" After some hesitation, Dr. Martin nodded. "I will start making arrangements, then."

The Doctor gritted his teeth. "When and where?" he asked, albeit reluctantly. Elijah took a look at the calendar, calculating the moon cycle and setting up the plan in his mind.

"The last day of the month," he answered. "Founder's Day, D'Angelo's Dance Studio. I'll have Gavin send you the address." He said the words with a sense of finality and made his way to the door.

"Elijah," Dr. Martin called out suddenly. Elijah stopped, not turning around. "Killing her will have repercussions. The spirits will make sure that Elizabeth pays for everything she's put her bloodline through, but we'll also have to pay for killing an innocent child. Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this?" Elijah didn't say anything at first, and Dr. Martin braced himself for whatever the ancient vampire would say. Finally, Elijah nodded and stepped out of the room.

"Gavin will send you the address, Dr. Martin. Good night."

And at that moment, Dr. Martin knew that no force in the universe would be able to protect the girl from the plan that had been set in motion.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Soooo, what did you guys think? The story is coming to a close, and I'd like to know what you all expect from the ending! It has been a long time, and it's been an amazing experience writing this story for you guys...**

**So, please let me know what you all thought! I'm already working on the last chapter, and I will have it out as soon as it's perfect :)**

**How do YOU think the story's gonna end...? Do you think Gavin will be able to betray her? And how real do you think Damon's feelings are?**

**I'm dying to know! Take care guys!**


	35. Stupid Choices

**Author's Note:**

**Hey everyone! This is the second-to-last chapter, and I'm sooo excited...! The sequel is already in the works, and I'll publish it at the same time as the last chapter, which should be out this week. **

**I really hope you all have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Your encouraging words have really made this experience a wonderful one, and I hope you all will stick with me to the second part :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Let me go!" she screamed, pounding her fists on his back. He ignored her pleading and marched through the entrance, kicking the front door shut behind him. The house was empty, of course, which was perfect. He'd been watching the home all morning, waiting for Benji and Diane to leave to do whatever it was that a doctor and an EMT vampire were supposed to do for the Founder's Day parade. The moment the two had left in the same car, he'd bolted down Mikaela's regular jogging route and snatched her out of her morning routine.

"Put me down right now, you misogynistic caveman of a vampire!"

Needless to say, she wasn't very happy about the arrangement.

"Okay, okay, let's not start with the name-calling business, why don't we?" he suggested, unceremoniously dropping her onto the couch. "I just gave you a first-class ride home. Some gratefulness is in order."

"My ass I'm grateful! Jesus, Damon, can't you give some warning before kidnapping me?" She shoved him away and collapsed in a huff, her bangs falling over her eyes, much to her obvious annoyance. Her cheeks were still bright red from the running followed by the yelling, and he couldn't help but notice how her chest kept heaving from the exertion. She wore a pair of running shorts and a baggy sweatshirt, her basic workout attire, but something seemed to be missing...

Glaring daggers at him, she held one sock-covered foot up for him to see. "You are tapping in to your limitless bank account and buying me a new pair of sneakers," she stated before sitting up straight. "Seriously, if I'm yelling for you to put me down..."

"I just figured you were playing hard to get," he said with a shrug as he pulled off his jacket. She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, because we so haven't gotten past that phase, right?" she snapped sarcastically.

"Wow, someone woke up feeling awfully chipper this morning," he commented, raising his brows.

She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. Her hands were shaking, and for some reason, he didn't think it was from the exercise. "Look, forget it. I'll just... I don't know, I'll get new sneakers tomorrow before I leave," she muttered, getting to her feet. "I'm gonna go shower." She turned to make her way to the staircase, but he moved in front of her to stop her. She didn't even bother putting up a fight as he took a hold of her shoulders and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her firmly.

"Alright, out with it," he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head. "What's eating at you?" She groaned and he rubbed her back encouragingly. "Come on, I promise not to laugh. Unless it's hilarious. In which case, I promise to leave the room."

"It's not embarrassing, it's stupid," she said, her words slightly muffled against his t-shirt. Getting a hunch, he set his jaw and voiced the worst case scenario.

"Is it the Lockwood brat?" he asked carefully. She blinked and looked up at him with confusion.

"No, it's not Tyler," she said and frowned. "What would make you think—?"

"Let's stay on point," he cut off, relieved she hadn't relapsed to her ex-boyfriend. "If it's not your ex, then is it New York?"

She shook her head shortly. "No, I'm gonna go with Elijah tomorrow to sign for an apartment and to visit the school. I'm actually excited."

"Are you going to have a roommate?" he asked. "Because, you know, when I go visit, it might be difficult for her to sleep and all, what with the screaming and the moan-"

"Gavin and a girl cousin of his are going to be sharing the apartment," she interrupted before he could go into detail. "So, get those ideas out of your head."

"Gavin is going to live there?" he repeated incredulously. "He's gay, right?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "No, he's not gay, and yes, he's gonna stay with us," she stated. "Can you please tone down the alpha male macho act already? If he hasn't made a move in the years I've known him, he's not going to."

"Then tell me what's bothering you," he insisted. "Or else I'll have to assume that-"

"It's psychic stuff," she said before he could voice any more theories. "I've just been having a recurring nightmare, and it..." She paused, squeezing her eyes shut as if holding back pain. After a moment, she opened her eyes again and let out a breath. "I can't figure it out."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "Can I help?" She frowned at the question, and he knew why: out of everything in her life, the one thing she seemed to be the most in control of was her psyche. It was the first time he asked her that question because it was the first time there ever seemed to be a need for it. Slowly she shook her head.

"Thanks, but... I don't know what anyone can do," she admitted. "I only remember bits and pieces, and I'm too tired to concentrate, and then there's the dance tonight and the New York trip tomorrow..." She trailed off, dropping her head onto his chest again. "I'm sorry. I'm whining."

He chuckled and ran a hand over her head, pulling the hair tie out of her ponytail as he did so. "You just need a good sleep," he concluded, watching her hair cascade over her shoulders. "Unless, of course, you think sex would be a better remedy?"

"I can't sleep, the nightmare will wake me up," she said tiredly, but a smile played at the edges of her lips. He was discovering that she couldn't stay cranky around him for too long. He accepted the information, but still draped an arm over her shoulders and led her to the stairs.

"Have you had any vervain recently?" he asked conversationally as they walked up the stairs. She scoffed.

"For fear of being locked in a cellar for another 24 hours, no, I haven't," she answered with a grin. Once they reached the second floor, she held up her wrist. "I have, however, taken the liberty of tucking some vervain into my watch."

"Take it off," he ordered, opening her bedroom door for her. She raised a brow at him challengingly.

"And leave myself completely vulnerable? I think I need a bit of an explanation," she said. He groaned and continued to steer her towards her bed, lifting her onto it so that her feet hung over the side.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked innocently as he removed her only sneaker and then her socks. She laughed and held up her hands as he sat next to her, forming a barrier.

"Tell me what you're going to do, and I might give you a more positive answer," she insisted. He sighed dramatically and covered her hands with his own, dropping them between them.

"I'm going to compel you into a dreamless sleep," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I've done it before, and it works like a charm." He could see that she was considering the option, and he was confident that she would agree. Biology had a tendency to win against the mind when faced with a lack of sleep. "I promise, I won't do anything else. I'll just make sure you sleep for an hour or two, and then I'll wake you up. You'll be good as new." When she still didn't seem convinced, he leaned forward and kissed her softly.

"Come on Twinkle Toes," he urged, cupping her face and turning her to face him. "Let your vampire boyfriend help you out." She blinked and looked at him questioningly, but even as he moved forward, pushing her softly so that she was laying on her back on top of the covers, she didn't stop him from pulling her watch off. He held himself over her on his elbows, hovering mere inches over her body, but she seemed completely distracted by something else.

"You're my boyfriend?" she asked, a confused smile playing across her face. Before she could ask any more questions, he kissed her again, forcefully to keep her from saying anything that might take the smile off her face.

"I'll be your boyfriend if you want me to be," he whispered in her ear. He noticed her shiver and smiled, lowering his lips to her neck. She groaned and lifted her hands to push him away.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me sleep?" she asked, raising an accusing brow. He grinned mischievously and continued to trail his lips along her skin.

"And then there's the other option..." She groaned and shoved him away, only this time he surrendered and dropped on his back next to her. "Fine, fine, I'll stop."

"Horny ass vampire," she muttered, slapping his shoulder playfully. He looked over at her and grinned, earning himself a tired smile from the teenager. Her eyes glazed over momentarily and a second later she shook her head, as if banishing an unwanted thought. Before he could question her, she wrapped her arm around his waist and settled her head down on his chest, burying her cheek in his shirt.

She didn't release him, and even if he had someplace to be (the parade was about to start at any second and he'd agreed to meet with Liz), he couldn't bring himself to move her. She would be more comfortable in a normal sleeping position and resting on a pillow, there was no doubt about that. And yet, rather than carefully turning her over and slipping his arm out from underneath her, he found himself running his fingers through her hair and staring at what little he could see of her face.

Her strange behavior worried him, but he would be lying if he said that she hadn't been acting strangely as of late. She'd been walking on a mercurial balance between acting detached from him and the rest of the world one moment, and then attacking him with onslaughts of affection the next. He hadn't complained about her passionate embraces and kisses (he didn't know who in their right mind would), but he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. When he'd asked her the day before, she'd brushed him off, saying she was dealing with the New York business.

He should have known she'd been lying. They'd had a talk about New York the day after their fight, and had reached a compromise of sorts. He had an apartment in the city that he rented out a couple of months in the year, but was fully furnished and had been empty since June. He'd offered to let her use it free of charge, but she'd argued that her mother would never agree to the arrangement. So, he'd suggested she escape there with him whenever she needed to get away from classes, be it for a weekend or a whole month. She'd been more than happy to agree to that compromise.

He chuckled to himself, remembering the excitement that had lit up her face when he'd made the suggestion. It was hard for him to believe that, only months before, she'd been terrified of him and would have done anything to get as far away from him as possible. And yet, somehow, that same girl was now the one sneaking to the boarding house to see him, leaving her window open so he could kiss her goodnight, and falling asleep on his chest as if she did it all the time. She had yet to stop surprising him.

"Don't you know you're the dangerous one here?" he murmured, kissing her head. Just as he'd settled his head back and closed his eyes to rest, he felt her rumble against him as she said something, her voice heavy with sleep. He frowned. "What did you say, Twinkle Toes?"

She mumbled something unintelligible and shifted, getting more comfortable. "Love you, Damon," she muttered, and sighed. "Weird, but... yeah."

That time, he wasn't surprised. He was downright floored, and couldn't come up with a response for the life of him.

* * *

Mikaela had been under the impression that one of the advantages of not sleeping with someone was not having to worry about waking up alone in the morning. That assumption was proving more and more wrong every time she fell asleep with Damon in the vicinity. Maybe she snored, or moved around too much. Hell, maybe she'd even drooled on his shirt.

But no. As she wandered around Town Square, hands stuffed in the pockets of her black jacket and heeled boots clicking along the pavement, she had a rising feeling about the reason behind his disappearance. She talked in her sleep, and though she couldn't figure out exactly what she could have said, she knew it had to have been something pretty damn incriminating to make him run away.

The Founder's Day festival had turned out wonderfully, just as it had the year before. Everyone seemed happy, strings of light formed a canopy over the Town Square, and the night wasn't even all that cold. Familiar faces were everywhere, some sending her smiles while others barely gave her a second glance. That was the thing about tragedy: it scared other people, and with her mother home again and her recent slip back into alcohol, they were back on display. Then again, she was used to it already. Living in the same town for the better part of her life had pushed her to learn to deal with the people that lived in it, and to put on a strong face even when she just wanted to hide.

A particularly familiar face broke through the crowd, and she couldn't help but smile genuinely as Tyler met her gaze. He hesitated, but when she started walking towards him, he met her halfway.

"Hey," he greeted, giving her a nod. "You been here long?"

She shrugged. "Couple of hours. Waiting for somebody," she explained. "How have you been?"

He shrugged as well. "Same old," he answered, falling into step next to her. "You? I heard you're going to New York."

"Yeah, it happened kinda recently." She crossed her arms as a breeze picked up, and unconsciously edged closer to him for warmth. The temperature was dropping suddenly, and she only had her jacket as a shield against the cold. "I haven't told too many people. Hopefully I'll start next semester."

"That's great," he said, only a fraction of his enthusiasm genuine. "I mean, it's what you've always wanted, right? To dance and get out of Mystic Falls."

"Yeah, it was," she admitted quietly. "It's just... Hard to say goodbye, after so much has happened here." She cleared her throat, wanting to change the subject. "Do you think we can keep that between us?"

He raised his hands. "My lips are sealed," he promised, shaking his head. They walked slowly through the people with seemingly no direction for a couple of minutes, simply looking around at the festivities. After a brief silence passed between them, he sighed and stopped. "Look, are you and Salvatore a thing or not?" he asked. "Elena says you two are fighting, and Caroline wouldn't tell me even if I asked, so I'm asking you." She frowned and uncrossed her arms.

"It's... complicated," she replied after a moment. "But, yeah, we're kind of... a thing." Sensing there was more to the question than friendly curiosity, she pressed, "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at her. "I'm fine," he stated, more than just a little defensive. "You can date whoever the hell you want to date. It's just-"

"Just what?" she questioned, standing up straighter.

"You know he's no good. He's only after one thing, and-"

"Yeah, like you were so different."

They both stopped for a second, and in that moment, she realized what they'd done: they'd fallen into the familiar pattern that their fights used to take when they were a couple. It started off calmly enough, only to lead to full-scale yelling and insults. Taking a step back, she let out a breath she'd been holding and shook her head. When she looked back up, he was running a hand through his hair and gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean that," she said, looking up at a string of lights. "I've been stressing out lately and snapping at everything that moves." She kicked a small rock that was by her foot and sighed. "Look, about Damon... I know he doesn't have a good track record, but he grew onto me. I don't know where we're going, but I'm willing to give it a chance." She looked at him then, trying to convey what she wanted him to know. "I really hope that doesn't mean I lose you."

He muttered a string of curses under his breath and looked down. "Of course not," he finally said, although it came out as a groan. "Dammit Kaela, out of everyone in town-!"

"Would you have preferred I started dating Matt?" she asked, raising a brow. He gave her a look that clearly stated that he didn't, and she laughed softly. "Exactly."

"But _Salvatore..._?"

"Believe me, if I could have fallen for someone simpler, I would have," she said, rolling her eyes. "Unfortunately, I had no say in the matter." When his expression changed, she gave him a questioning look. "What?"

"You've fallen for him?" he repeated. She paused to remember what she'd said, and realized he was right. It had slipped out unknowingly, but now that it was out...

"I... don't know," she admitted reluctantly. "I think so, but..." Before she could finish what she was saying, he squeezed her arm, signaling her to stop.

"Just be careful, alright?" he said. And then, for no apparent reason, he smiled. Not the cocky smirk he'd worn since shortly before the end of their relationship, but the smile she'd fallen in love with when she was younger. Unable to resist, she moved forward and hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly, knowing he could hear. He tentatively hugged her back, caught off guard by her sudden burst of emotion. With the physical contact, she could feel it: the connection she had with him, and the love for him that would never completely fade away. He was her first love, and though their time had ended in a less-than-friendly fashion, he would always be her first love. Reluctantly she let him go, taking several steps back when she released him.

"I'll see you around," she said, giving him a wink as she turned around. In spite of her visions that kept announcing death and danger to the people she cared about, she knew that Tyler would be fine, at least in the near future. They were bonded, and if something terrible were to happen to him, she would know about it.

_"Promise, Mikaela!"_

_Mayor Lockwood held both of her hands in his, tight enough that he was causing more than just a little pain. The desperation in his eyes and the pleading in his voice were what made it impossible for her to pull away, though, not his strength- which, in all honesty, was more than the man should have possessed. She nodded vigorously and bent down so she was at eye level with him._

_"I promise, Mayor," she said imploringly._

_"You have to take care of Tyler when I'm gone," he pressed, as if he hadn't heard her._

_"Richard, I promise!" she nearly yelled. He released her hands and latched onto her face, his nails digging into her skin. "Please, you have to believe me! Let me go-!"_

_"How do you expect to protect him?" he demanded angrily, shaking her. A figure approached from behind him, but he seemed completely unaware. Flames erupted around them, and she could see who the person was. It took her only a moment to recognize him as one of the vampires that had helped Frederic torture her only weeks before. She opened her mouth to warn the Mayor as the vampire settled his hands close to the Mayor's neck, but her breath hitched and she was unable to form words._

_"How do you expect to protect him when you're dying tonight?" he asked, a genuinely confused look on his face. The words had no sooner left the Mayor's lips before they were followed by the hair-raising sound of a neck being snapped, and then the dull sound of his body hitting the floor._

When Mikaela came back to reality, she had her arms wrapped around a lamppost for dear life and her whole body was shaking, her legs too much so to hold her up. Biting back sobs, she took several deep breaths to calm down and managed to stand on her feet. When the shaking had subsided, she leaned against the lamppost and wiped the sweat off her brow, checking her watch as she did so. According to the time, she'd been out of it for at least ten minutes. Cursing under her breath, she looked around to make sure nobody had noticed.

Luckily, almost everyone had their attention directed to the stage set up in the middle of Town Square. The Mayor was standing at the mic and giving one of his customary speeches, his stage smile on his face. Maybe it was the vision she'd had, or maybe she was projecting her own feelings, but when she looked up at him and his wife, she sensed a strong feeling of anxiousness, more from Mrs. Lockwood than from the actual Mayor. The crowd started to clap, and as he turned to walk off the stage, fireworks exploded in the sky.

_"Are you ready, Mikaela?" Elijah asked, his customary polite expression on his face. They stood in the middle of a circle of fire, the smell of smoke and gasoline making it difficult to breathe. She tried to respond, but smoke filled her mouth and she coughed, albeit with absolutely no relief._

_"For what?" she wheezed out when she was finally able to get a small breath in. He dropped a hand on her should and smiled pleasantly._

_"To die, of course."_

This time when she came to, she was on her hands and knees in an alley without any idea how she'd gotten there. She wasn't alone, though, and there were firm hands on her shoulders. She was coughing even if there was no smoke, pinpricks of pain shooting across her chest with each failed breath. The person rubbed her back and seemed to be trying to soothe her, though he didn't speak.

There was no denying it any more, she was downright terrified. Her visions hadn't allowed her more than an hour of peace for days, and she was exhausted, paranoid, and on the verge of tears. She could slightly recognize the person kneeling next to her, but with the confusion between vision and reality, it was more difficult than it should have been.

"That's right, breathe..." She froze. As if sensing that she'd recognized him, the vampire set his hands on her neck, exactly as he'd done for Mayor Lockwood in her vision, and chuckled. "Ready to die for me, sweetheart?"

Her heart slammed against her chest and panic filled her as he tightened his grip and lowered his head to smell her hair. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, it disappeared. He released her the same second that she reached into her jacket and closed her fingers around a stake.

She was not going to die.

"Go to hell," she whispered. He fell back on the ground as she turned, and, without a moment's hesitation, she drove the stake right into his chest. He let out a scream of pain and writhed around, but she straddled him and held it in place, refusing to let him go.

"Who's dying now?" she yelled angrily. When he didn't desiccate as he was supposed to, she took a better look at her aim and shook her head. "Oh, looks like I missed," she commented, letting out a dark chuckle and pulling it out. "_You_ die for me, sweetheart."

This time, she knew it hit home by the way he gasped and froze, paralyzed by the stopping of his heart. She was pulled off of him by a strong pair of arms that she didn't fight off, allowing them to pull her to her feet away from him. The vampire laid there completely still, dead by her hands.

And she'd enjoyed being the one to kill him.

They were two deputies, and as if they'd expected her to stake the vampire, they stuck a needle into his throat, emptied the syringe, and tucked him into a nearby cruiser. She watched the scene with a confused frown, not knowing what exactly had happened, or how to find out.

"This damn town," she muttered, taking off after the police officers. There were other deputies, and as she watched, they started dragging unconscious volunteers into their cars. She stopped when the two officers made their way into the Mystic Grill. No, they weren't taking volunteers... They were taking vampires. And if they were taking vampires...

Damon.

If there was even the slightest chance that he was at the festival, she needed to find him. Elena and Bonnie would focus on Stefan, but until Stefan was taken care of, nobody else would look for Damon. She ran through the people, calling his name and asking for him, but got no leads. After a couple of minutes, she balled her fists and stopped, standing in another alley.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, focusing her energy. She touched the choker she'd found at the Founder's Day Ball and drew energy from it, focusing on Damon. If she couldn't find him the normal way, she'd have to find him the only other way that she knew how. There were hundreds of people around her and their energy interfered, but she grit her teeth and pushed through them, searching for his particular energy. After what felt like an eternity, she felt a brief flare of his energy and opened her eyes, looking in that direction.

Dr. Grayson Gilbert's old office.

Just as she was about to make a break for it, someone grabbed her arm. Gavin greeted her with a smile and pulled her to the side. "Hey there, I finally found you!" he said, wiping sweat off of his face. "I swear, I've been looking everywhere for-"

"Hey, it's nice to see you," she said distractedly, pulling her arm away. "I'm sure you came a long way, but-"

"I really need to talk to you, Kaela," he interrupted, latching on to her wrist with both of his hands. She stopped and looked at his grip pointedly. "I swear, I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't important."

"I believe you, but I really have someplace to be," she insisted, pulling at her arm. When he refused to let her go, she gave him an exasperated look. "Seriously? Gavin, let go of me!"

"It's a matter of life or death."

"And so is my business!" she snapped. When he gave her a hard stare, she growled and reached forward, holding on to his forehead. She didn't know why she did it, but when a surge of invisible power flowed from her necklace to her hand, she was able to take a guess at what would be the outcome. He jerked back out of reflex, but only a second later he dropped to the ground, completely unconscious.

She didn't have time to ponder on how she'd been able to floor him without using normal magic, and the moment she was free, she bolted for the doctor's office. Already she could sense the desperation of people staring death in the face, and the closer she got to the building, the more that desperation started to emulate her own. Damon was in there, and she couldn't let him die.

Back when Grayson Gilbert had been alive, he'd given her a part-time job on the weekends (filing and making phone calls), so she knew about the back entrance to the building, and knew exactly where the spare key was always kept. She pulled the key out from behind a loose brick and threw open the door, hurrying for the stairs.

Jonathon Gilbert stood at the head of the stairs, a lit match held in his hand. "Mikaela?" he questioned, confused. The smell of gasoline filled the air, and having the familiar smell fill her senses made her growl. The gasoline would lead to fire, then to smoke, then to ash... and death.

"Don't you dare light that fire, Jonathon Gilbert," she warned. He shook his head sadly.

"You're too young to understand this now, but-"

"Unlike Stefan, I don't give a shit that you're Elena's father," she stated, stepping forward. "Light that fire, and I'll make sure you burn, too. Your choice."

He did falter, but the match was burning down, and he still hadn't turned it out. "You know, Mikaela, I didn't tell the Council, but my source told me that not too long ago, you were tortured by these very vampires," he said, cocking his head to the side. "And you would defend them?" If he was trying to distract her, it worked, because she stopped for a second, and in that second, he dropped the match.

"NO!" she yelled. The fire burst to life and poured down the steps, eliciting screams in a matter of seconds. She surged forward and he grabbed her by her waist, dragging her to the door. She thrashed against him and screamed, more animal than human at that point.

"There's nothing you can do, Mikaela," he grunted as she fought his hold. "Think of your father! Think about what he would have wanted!"

And so she did. With all the strength she could muster, she elbowed him in the face, breaking his nose with a satisfying crunch. He yelled out in pain and she took advantage of the opening, running for the stairs. The very heat was a physical barrier, forming an invisible wall that was painful to cross. She took a few steps back, held her breath, and ran forward, leaping through the fire.

For a couple of seconds she seemed to fly over the steps, but eventually gravity caught up with her, and she fell to the ground just above the last three steps. She curled into herself and crashed down them, hitting the cement shoulder-first with a loud crack. When her body stilled, she looked up at the stairs and saw that she'd managed to avoid the better part of the flames. That small victory was quickly overshadowed when the sounds of screams filled her ears and smoke filled her lungs. She stayed close to the floor and looked around, searching for one person only.

Bodies littered the floor, haphazardly tossed around like dirty laundry. Some of the vampires had already been staked, but for the most part they were starting to sluggishly move around, trying to escape the fire. She moved along the ground as quickly as she could, running on pure instinct as she crawled over a lifeless body and made for a black figure.

"Well, if it isn't the screamer," one vampire chuckled as she passed by. "Too bad Frederic isn't here to see you die with us." She managed to dodge his reaching hand as the vampire groped for her ankle, and baring her teeth, she looked back at him and growled.

"Go to hell," she hissed. Not bothering to wait for a reply, she continued, and finally reached the person she'd been aiming for. The smoke made it difficult for her to see, or even breathe, for that matter, but she held onto his face and slapped his cheek, getting his attention.

"Damon? Damon, wake up," she urged, closing her eyes against the smoke and praying that he answered her. She slapped the person's cheek again and heard him groan.

"Dammit Twinkle Toes," he muttered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She very nearly cried with relief that it was him and he was alive, but swallowed her emotion and settled with smiling. "Saving your sorry ass," she answered weakly. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

With much effort, she managed to stand up and drag him with her, draping one of his arms over her shoulders to keep him on his feet. She led him to the stairs, and cursed when she saw the flames. It had been so much easier to go down than it would be to get up. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, coughed out smoke, and grit her teeth.

_Elizabeth_, she thought, trying to contact the witch. _Help me. It's Damon._ When nothing happened, she gripped her choker and tried again._ He's going to die, Elizabeth. Please, help-!_

"What in the living hell are you doing down here?"

Benji's voice had never sounded as wonderfully to her ears as it did at that moment. She opened her eyes just as her uncle-of-sorts finished running down the stairs and tossed Damon to the side. "You have to get out of here, now." He grabbed her shoulders, but she jerked away.

"Take him first!" she yelled. He barked a laugh.

"No way in-"

"Benji, we don't have time, you can heal me later!" she interrupted, gesturing desperately at him. "If he burns, he's done!"

He looked like he wanted to argue, but as a beam fell, he let out a string of curses and threw Damon over his shoulders in a fireman's hold. He looked at her and gave her an even stare. "Don't move." She nodded, and in the blink of an eye, he was running up.

Once he was gone, she felt a wave of dizziness hit her. She couldn't stop coughing, and pain was starting to set in. She looked down at her hand and distantly noticed that her jacket had caught fire. Her movements feeling alien, she shrugged out of the jacket and stomped out the flames, only managing to make her lose her balance. Somehow she ended up on the floor on her back, staring up at the flames and the smoke.

It couldn't end like that, in the basement of a doctor's office... Could it?

Benji's green eyes broke into her field of vision, and as he lifted her into his arms, she felt the truth from him: he would die before letting her die that way. She closed her eyes and finally let herself fade into unconsciousness, the feel of his chest against her cheek reminding her distantly of her father and the way he used to carry her when she was just a little girl...

* * *

"Is she okay?"

Benji had barely made it out of the building when the damn vampire boyfriend was already demanding answers. As if he didn't want to know, too! If she wasn't such an idiot, she would have let him take her out of the building first, but _noooo_, she had to go all heroic on his ass and insist that he save the damn moron that had gotten her into all of the trouble in the first place! Ignoring Damon's wheezed questions, Benji set her down on the ground a safe distance away from the building, damn near cursing again when he saw that she was unconscious. Without waiting any longer, he bit into his wrist and held it to her mouth, allowing the blood to drip into her mouth.

"Is she-?"

"Shut up, Salvatore! I'm working here!"

For several seconds she didn't respond, and those had to be the longest seconds of his life. But, just as the wound on his wrist was starting to heal, she closed her mouth and groaned- right before vomiting the blood on the ground next to her.

"Can't- drink-!" He held her hair away from her face as she started to heave again, all of her stomach's contents pouring out until she was dry-heaving and gasping for breath. Once she was done, she crawled away from the mess and collapsed on her back. She winced, and only a moment later she started to scream. "Oh God- It burns! Dammit Benji, it burns! Make it stop, make it stop!" She gripped her arm and writhed around, sobbing between screams. She ripped at her clothes and tried unsuccessfully to lift her back off the ground, and as she fell onto her stomach, he was able to see the cause of her agony.

The entire back of her shirt had been burned off, but it wasn't only the fabric that was missing. A mess of blood and harshly charred skin covered her back, running all the way from the small of her back up her spine to her neck. Her right arm's sleeve was missing, too, and the limb hung at an uncomfortable angle, though she hardly seemed to notice that over the pain of the burned skin that also covered her from shoulder to wrist.

"Mikaela!" Damon surged forward and tried to hold her still, if only to stop her from hurting herself any further. Benji only stared in shock, unable to respond. She gripped his shirt and looked up at him, but couldn't stop sobbing in pain. "Kaela, please, take my blood-"

"You need it," she forced out between her teeth, shaking her head.

"I don't care Mikaela, you drink it now!" When he tried to force her to take his blood, she didn't- or rather, couldn't- swallow the liquid, and ended up spitting it out.

"Benji, help me! Please!"

Car accidents, house fires, flood rescues- all sorts of horrific scenes he'd encountered, and none had left him frozen like the sight of the youngest Knight child begging for him to save her.

"Give her your blood!" Damon yelled, finally breaking through his shock. Benji bit into his wrist again and held it to her mouth, holding the back of her head to keep her in place. She opened her mouth and gratefully swallowed several mouthfuls, but only a second later had to turn to vomit again. Blood dribbled down her chin and tears ran down her cheeks, but what little blood could have made it into her system was having no effect in easing her pain.

"Hospital," she gasped, gripping Benji's shirt with all of her strength. "Get me to a hospital, now!" Damon stepped away as Benji moved forward, scooping her up.

"I'll meet you there, go!" Damon urged, falling back against a wall. Benji nodded and took off full-speed for Mystic Falls General Hospital, praying to whatever god that would listen that they be able to do something for her that he couldn't.

* * *

White floors, white sheets, white uniforms... The trauma unit was a large room of white, and as Benji sat with Diane next to the bed, all they could do was stare at nothing. At first when the doctors and nurses had left the room, they'd stared at Mikaela, but it had only taken seconds for the girl's half-bandaged face to be too much to bear. The extent of her injuries hadn't been fully apparent until the doctors had peeled off her clothes, and even once they'd managed to clean off the burns and bandage her, her body was refusing medication. To worsen matters, her unburned arm was dislocated, and quite possibly she had a broken rib or two from her fall down the stairs. The only source of relief had to be that she'd passed out from pain shortly after arriving, and that she was still unconscious.

Diane cleared her throat and stood up, excusing herself to get coffee. Benji knew better, but didn't say anything as the doctor left to either discuss treatment methods with the doctor on call or to cry in the bathroom. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Only months before, he'd made contact with Mikaela and would have been more than willing to make sure she died if it meant breaking the curse to bring his sister back. And yet sitting there, watching her body slowly break down, all he could think about was how he should have insisted on getting her out of the building first.

"Your guilt is... making it... hard to sleep."

Her raspy voice could barely be perceived by his heightened senses, but he heard her loud and clear. In a flash he was at her side, looking into her brown eyes and taking in every detail. She smiled with the unburned side of her face, even if it was merely a twitch on one side of her mouth that caused her to groan only a second later.

"How are you feeling?"

Stupid question, of course, but she didn't call him out on it. "Alive," she answered instead, and for the life of him, she actually sounded sincere. "It's a... plus." He laughed lightly, and even he knew it sounded fake. "Damon...?"

"He's fine," he assured her, shaking his head. "He had to go feed, but he should be here at any second to try and give you some of his blood. For some reason, mine isn't agreeing with you."

"Nobody's is," she muttered, her eyes fluttering for a second. He frowned, sensing there was something she was leaving out.

"Why were you down there, Mikaela?" he asked carefully. She scoffed, though it simply sounded like she let out a small breath.

"I fell for... a vampire," she whispered, the side of her mouth twitching in a smile. "Had a vision... of fire... Couldn't let... him die."

Benji bit back a curse and took a deep breath. "You do realize how stupid that is, right?" She laughed lightly and nodded.

"Love... makes you... crazy..."

"Yeah, you know I'll go crazy if you keep doing stupid shit like this," he muttered. "Mikaela, you can't do that to me again. Damon and I, we've had our chance to live. Your life has barely started." He felt something hot touch his hand and saw that she was holding it with her unburned hand. She smiled.

"Love you, Benji."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, love you too, stupid."

Her breathing hitched and she closed her eyes, wincing in pain. "I'll get the doctor," he said quickly, not wanting her to panic. "Just breathe." She nodded minutely and followed his instructions, taking shaky breaths and closing her eyes. He turned and pushed open the door, signaling the doctor to come. The MD seemed to ignore him, however, and not willing to put up with anyone's attitudes, he marched over to him. "Hey, doctor-"

"I can't help you," the doctor said immediately, attention focused on a clipboard in his hand. Benji stopped and frowned.

"Excuse me?" he said, raising a brow and stepping forward threateningly.

"I can't help you," he repeated. This time Benji caught onto it: the glazed eyes, the blank expression, the robotic response. The doctor was under a strong compulsion. As if in slow motion, he whorled around and bolted for her room, dreading with everything in him what he would find. When he pushed open the door and entered, he felt as if his body had been dropped in ice, and he was frozen to the spot.

Her bed was empty. The sheets were smooth as if nobody had even laid in them, her charts were missing, and all of the medication and IV's were gone. He looked around in confusion, not understanding what the hell had happened, when he sensed somebody else in the room. With a growl he slammed the door shut and turned to face the one he was certain was responsible.

"I have to say, I'm surprised you fought so hard to make sure she survived," Elijah commented, standing up from the seat in the corner. "If she had died in the fire, your sister would have automatically come back from the dead, and Mikaela would have passed on." Benji stared at the Original in front of him, eyes wide with disbelief as he started to put the pieces together. He hadn't seen him since his human years, and even so, his human memories were a blur. Elijah looked him over. "I must say, you've grown since I last saw you. How long has it been? A century and a half?"

"You... You're the same Elijah coaching her," Benji said, his voice breathless. Elijah nodded. "But... why? She's not a witch, she's a psychic. She can't help you like Elizabeth, or even Diane."

"It's not quite that simple anymore, Benjamin," he said vaguely. "It's come to my attention that there's a curse running through the Knight bloodline, and if I can break it-"

"You'll get your prodigy back," Benji finished. He looked back at the perfectly made bed and shook his head. "Elijah, you can't do this. She's just a child-!"

"My witches are doing everything in their power to make sure both women survive the process," he assured him calmly. Benji growled.

"You may be able to fool most people, but I've always been able to tell when you're lying," Benji snapped angrily. "I swear, Elijah, if anything happens to her-!"

Elijah surged forward, his hand latching firmly onto Benji's neck to hold him in place. "You're going to tell Diane that you were able to give Mikaela your blood and heal her," he ordered, the compulsion heavy in his voice. Benji tried to resist, but he could feel the power pouring over him and knew there was no way to fight it. "Sick of the vampire business in town, she left with Gavin to New York, and promises to call as soon as she's settled down. You tried to stop her, but she begged that you respect her decision, and then neutralized you with magic. Do you understand?"

"I... understand," he grunted. Satisfied, Elijah released him, letting the vampire drop to the ground. When Benji looked up, he was gone, and he was left alone in the impersonal hospital room. The sound of heels approaching from down the hall reached him, and a moment later Diane entered the room, two cups of coffee in her hands. She stopped in the doorway and looked around, a frown crossing her face.

"Where is she?"

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:**

**Don't give up on the story, wait until the last chapter! Review with your thoughts- or, better yet, predictions :D!-, and thanks for reading :)!**


	36. Untitled

**Author's Note:**_  
_

**So... this is it... the final chapter! The sequel will be up within the hour.**

**The title is based off of Simple Plan's song, Untitled.**

* * *

_She was dancing. It wasn't the kind of dance she'd done recently, fueled by training and discipline; no, she simply stood on her father's feet, held on to his legs, and let him lead her around the dance floor. Her mother wasn't one for dancing, but even she had danced at the wedding, allowing Joseph to sweep her across the hardwood like he'd done when they'd first met._

_She looked up at her father and grinned, not caring that her two front teeth were missing. He looked down at her and smiled, picking her up and throwing her into the air. She squealed with delight as she fell into his arms, grabbing onto his shirt out of instinct. He laughed loudly and twirled in a circle with her, kissing her forehead affectionately. _

"_I'll love you forever," he promised. _

_And he did._

* * *

She knew by the smell where she was before she opened her eyes. With confusion she looked up at the ceiling of D'Angelo's dance studio, the place where she'd spent the majority of her waking hours for the past couple of weeks. The lights were off, and the only reason she could see was because of several candles lit up around the room. With a groan she tried to sit up, only to be pushed back by the unbearable pain all over her skin.

"Oh God!" she cried out, gasping as it all caught up with her. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, throbbing, burning, roaring with pain with every tiny movement she made. Tears forced their way out of her eyes and the liquid stung the left side of her face, so she squeezed them shut, ineffectively stopping the tears. Distantly she heard footsteps, and a second later she sensed somebody kneel next to her.

"Where do you want to be?" Elijah's voice reached her, and with confusion, she looked up at him. Catching on to her unspoken question, he repeated himself. "In this moment, if you could be anywhere, where would you be?"

She stared at him with wide eyes, the reality setting in. She'd disregarded his role in her dreams as a paranoid manifestation, considering he was what she'd affectionately called the slave driver of D'Angelo's, but no... They were actually correct. He didn't show her his predator eyes, but she could sense it: he wasn't human, and not a simple vampire. He was something... _more_, and he had taken her out of the hospital for a reason she couldn't even begin to guess at.

"Am I... going... to die?" she asked. Her voice came out strangled, but she knew he could understand. He nodded.

"Yes, Mikaela, you are," he stated. She whimpered and dropped her head back, closing her eyes as the tears threatened to fall. "We found a way to save both of you, but Elizabeth isn't allowing us. The curse is stronger than we anticipated, so this is the only way."

"But... the hospital...!"

"Your body is rejecting medication and vampire blood," he explained. "The more we try to heal you, the worse your condition becomes." She resisted the urge to scream, in anger, in pain, in frustration, and turned her head away, even if it hurt her to do so. "I'll try to make this as comfortable as possible."

"Why?" she asked. She knew he understood exactly what she meant, and when he put his hand to her forehead, for all appearances a gesture of affection, she would have given anything for it to have been her father instead. In her moments of fear, he was the one who had taught her to be strong, and she felt that she needed him then more than ever.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly. She could sense that the sadness in his voice was genuine, and that confused her. How could he feel that sadness, and at the same time, the resignation to her dying? "I've been trying to find a way to break the curse without the cost of your life, but now that you've given Elizabeth the opportunity, she's making sure your body shuts down."

She could feel the truth of what he was saying. Her visions had tried to warn her over and over of what was to come, and knowing what could happen, she'd made her choice. Damon's life over her own. She couldn't think of a better way to die than for someone she loved, and as much as the idea should have comforted her, true death scared her. Like Benji had said, her life was only just beginning: she wanted to dance, wanted to see the world, fall in love and know what it felt like to be loved back.

"All of this, and he's going to hate her anyways," she whispered.

A silence passed before Elijah spoke again. "I can't save you, but I can make you more comfortable," he reminded her, turning her face so that she was looking at him. "Tell me. If you could be anywhere, where would you be?"

* * *

"Benji, stop bullshitting me!" Diane snapped, slamming her hand on the table. "She was covered in burns and had multiple broken bones! You can't tell me that even your blood could heal that much damage in the five minutes it took me to get my damn coffee!"

Tense silence filled the room after the doctor's yell. They were in one of the hospital conference rooms with Damon and Stefan, neither of whom could come up with an explanation. The brothers had already searched the hospital and asked around, but nobody could even recall seeing the burned trauma victim. Benji sat in one of the cushioned seats, head held between his hands as he gritted his teeth.

"I don't know what else to tell you-" he began, but Damon grabbed him by his shirtfront and slammed him against the wall.

"How about the truth?" he suggested calmly. He'd hardly spoken a word after getting back from searching the hospital, but his dark eyes and the murderous look on his face made it clear that he was through with talking. Benji jutted his jaw and glared at him challengingly.

"I already told you-!" He was cut off as a scream of pain ripped from his mouth, startling Damon enough to release him. Benji collapsed on the ground, gripping at his heart and growling with pain. His chest rose and fell violently and he yelled again, this time gripping his head and falling back on the floor.

"Benji, what's wrong?" Diane exclaimed, surging forward. Stefan held her back as Benji started to trash around violently, kicking a chair hard enough to break the leg he came in contact with. Damon grabbed Benji and held him in a headlock to keep him still, and even then Benji fought, almost snapping his own neck in the process.

A minute later he calmed down, sweat pouring down his neck and his face pale. Damon tentatively released him and Benji nodded at him gratefully, rubbing the back of his neck with shaking hands. "What the hell, Benji?" Diane demanded.

"The doctor has a dirty mouth on her," Damon commented. "Do you talk to your patients like that?"

"I'll show you a dirt- Benji!" she yelled, and all eyes turned back to him. He had his pocket knife out and sliced a deep gash into his palm, wincing as he snapped it shut and tucked it back into his pocket. He watched the blood pour out as if it was the most important thing in existence, and none of them could figure out why. A couple of seconds passed as blood continued to pour, and after a whole minute Benji closed his fast and covered his face with his other hand.

"I'm human," he whispered. Diane blinked and pulled herself out of Stefan's hold.

"What?"

Benji took in a shaky breath and lowered his hand. His green eyes were filled with tears, and his jaw was tightly clenched. "Elijah took her," he answered through gritted teeth. All color drained from Diane's face and she seemed to freeze, mouth slightly open as she stared at Benji. Stefan and Damon still looked at him with confusion, and he elaborated. "He compelled me to say that she ran away, but now I'm human, so his compulsion broke. And the only way for me to become human would be by breaking the curse, so..." He trailed off, running a hand roughly over his head and balling his fists.

"She's dead," Damon finished quietly. Diane seemed to sway and immediately Stefan was by her side, catching her before she could fall. In that same second Damon was out the door, running for all he was worth to God only knew where. Benji slammed his fist against the wall and yelled just as Diane broke into sobs. Stefan held her, but only moments later Benji was next to him, pulling Diane into his arms.

"My baby," she cried out between sobs, gasping for breath. Her whole body shook uncontrollably, emotion wracking through her like a physical force. Benji simply held her, running a hand over her mane of blonde curls. "It can't end like this...!"

Benji shook his head and looked Stefan in the eye as the only remaining vampire in the room backed away. Even if he had weakened in pretty much the span of sixty seconds, when he looked at Stefan, he had the same determined fire in his eyes as he had as a supernatural being.

"I promise you Diane," he said, loud enough that the three of them could hear. "It's not over."

* * *

_She hadn't been to the Smoky Mountains in years, and it was wonderful to be back. They'd all rented a six-room cabin for the weekend, large enough to fit all thirteen of them comfortably in the same building. Matt, Tyler and Jeremy had left with Zach to get food for dinner, Bonnie, Caroline, Elena and Stefan had gone for a hike through the woods and her parents had gone for a walk, leaving Damon, Benji and Mikaela with the house to themselves. Her parents had stayed in the cabin for a while, but they all understood that the two of them would want some alone time after the months he'd spent in the coma._

_It was really the perfect place to be to die._

_She sat on the large porch swing with Benji, wrapped in a blanket and staring out at the mountains. She leaned on him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, letting her rest against his chest. "This place is beautiful," she commented, smiling and closing her eyes. He nodded in agreement._

"_Last time I came here was with Elijah and Elizabeth," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. She opened her eyes and looked at him curiously. _

"_You knew Elijah as a human?" she asked. He nodded._

"_Yup. He was our tutor for a couple of years," he explained. "He taught me mathematics, but taught Elizabeth most of the spells she died knowing." _

"_Hm. That's nice. How is she doing, anyways?"_

"_Fine. Still bitter about your engagement." _

"_Too bad."_

"_She'll get over it eventually."_

_Damon returned then, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hand. "Oh, gosh darn, Benji, I can't carry more than two without burning my hands," Damon said in mock apology, nodding to the door. "There's more on the stove."_

_Benji rolled his eyes and gave Mikaela a quick kiss on top of her head. "Be careful with him, honey," he warned, getting up from his seat. She laughed, shaking her head at Damon. All he could do was look at her blankly, the epitome of false innocence._

"_Love ya Benji," she called as he entered the house._

"_Love you, hate your choice in men," he yelled. Damon shrugged as he sat down in Benji's spot, handing her one of the two mugs._

"_Can't win 'em all, can you?" he said, draping an arm over the back of the swing._

"_You don't exactly make it easy," she pointed out, albeit with a smile. He shrugged again._

"_Eh, not my style to make it easy," he said, kissing her cheek playfully. She scoffed and leaned into him, dropping her head back on his shoulder. He reached around her, holding her hand in his as if it were the most natural thing to do. The ring he'd given her shined brightly on her left hand, the small pearl embedded in the silver glinting in the setting sun. She looked at it and leaned up, kissing his neck._

"_Have I told you that I love you?' she asked quietly. He smiled and rested his chin on top of her head._

"_I love you, too," he answered, squeezing her hand. She laughed lightly._

"_Who said anything about falling in love?" she said jokingly. He chuckled and shook his head. _

"_I don't think any of us saw it coming," he admitted. She nestled closer to him and sighed._

"_Can we stay like this?" He looked at her and nodded._

"_For how long?"_

_She contemplated that thought for a moment. "Until the end," she decided._

"_The end?" he repeated. She smiled sadly and closed her eyes._

"_Let's not talk about that," she dismissed. "Just... say it again, please?" He didn't even have to ask. As the sun set behind the mountains, he leaned down by her ear and said it, over and over again until she faded away._

"_I love you. I will always love you."_

_And then she was gone._

* * *

**Two Weeks Later:**

Everyone had different methods of coping, and Damon wasn't certain if he'd taken a step up or a step down in coping with Mikaela's death.

He stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, her breath soft against his chest and her arm draped over his stomach. Stefan wasn't around, of course, but then again, even if he was, he wouldn't be in the room. He'd been giving Damon a wide berth, and for that, he was grateful. He knew hell would reign on earth if he walked into the room at that particular moment.

"God, what time is it?"

Damon checked his cellphone. "8 o'clock in the morning." She gasped and jumped out of bed, grabbing her clothes off the floor. "Where are you going? Stefan isn't going to be back for hours."

"The funeral's at 10, Damon," she reminded him, hurriedly pulling her jeans on. "We need to be there."

"_You_ need to be there so Stefan doesn't suspect anything," he corrected. "_I_ don't have to be anywhere."

Elena pulled on her shirt and raised a brow at him doubtfully. "Don't look at me like that," he warned.

"It's Mikaela, Damon," she said with a sigh. "You have to be there."

"Like I said..."

"Fine," she surrendered, running her fingers through her hair quickly. When she didn't look like she'd just spent the morning having sex, she leaned over to him and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll text you when I'm free."

"You do that." He looked out the window as she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Yeah, he knew it was wrong. Did he care? Not much, not anymore. After the immediate grief and lashing out, there was nothing. Nothing really mattered. With a sigh, he sat up and reached for his jeans.

Something small and metal clattered out of the pocket and rolled across the floor. Once he'd pulled on the pants, he walked over to the window it had rolled under and picked it up. It was his mother's engagement ring, the one he had planned to give to Elizabeth in 1863. He'd been carrying it with him on Founder's Day, mulling over the idea of giving it to Mikaela.

Obviously he hadn't planned to propose. It had just felt right that she have it. Many things had felt right, but then again, actually weren't. It had felt right to be with Mikaela, and then she had died. Being with Elena didn't feel right, but he did it anyways. Anything was better than accepting what had happened.

He looked down at the ring and closed his eyes. He knew she wouldn't be proud of him, not with the way he was acting, but that didn't stop him. Hell, if she was so disappointed in him, she shouldn't have gone ahead and died. Maybe that's what he was doing, really: challenging her to come back.

She didn't get to make him love her and then disappear like that. She just didn't. So, he wouldn't go to the funeral, and he wouldn't accept that she'd "died". No, he'd just keep on challenging her, trying her patience until she came back and gave him a piece of her mind, just like she always did. He preferred to have her hate him then be dead.

* * *

"Well, that was a ridiculous waste of time."

"It was a funeral, Benji. How is that a waste of time?" Diane asked tiredly, dropping her purse on the kitchen table. She pulled off her black coat and hung it over the back of a chair, looking at Benji with a raised brow as he sat down. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat.

"No body, no closure," he answered simply. "Funerals are about paying respect to the dead and putting the body down to rest. Without the second part..."

"I think the kids needed to say goodbye," she reasoned, making her way to the pantry. "Coffee?"

"Please."

They fell into silence as she got to work making the two cups of coffee. It didn't go unnoticed by him that she poured more Irish cream than normal in her mug, but he didn't say a word. The woman was in mourning- hell, they all were- and if the alcohol could provide some comfort while she got past the worst of it, who was he to stop her? She'd lost a lot of weight ever since the curse had been broken- they didn't dare say the words "Mikaela" or "died" in the house-, and taking into consideration how thin she had been beforehand, it was starting to worry him. If she kept on at the rate she was going, she was going to disappear.

The others who knew the truth weren't doing too well, either. Bonnie, Stefan and Elena were doing their best to keep themselves distracted with schoolwork, but Damon wasn't having as much success as they were. Benji had stopped by the boarding house to check on him a week before, but had stopped in the foyer when he'd heard the sounds of sex coming from his room. He hadn't gone back when he'd realized that the other participant was none other than Elena.

Did he approve of Damon sleeping with his brother's girlfriend to ease the pain? Not in the slightest. Despite how much he resented the teenager for the part she played in the love spell fiasco, however, he knew for a fact that the girl was the faithful type. Sleeping with Damon didn't seem like something she would do, so he could only assume that she had also found a way to cope with the pain. And who was he to judge?

And how was Benji coping? Pretending he didn't need to cope. Playing the part of supporting brother to Diane took all of the energy he had, and hiding his guilt took constant effort. Only he knew of his true intentions behind making contact with Mikaela months before, and he knew of the point that he had reached, of being prepared to kill her if it meant to get his sister back.

And then she'd gotten under his skin. He knew she had been able to tell that there was a darker side to him (being a psychic and all), and still she had trusted him, cared about him. It wasn't out of ignorance: she had made a conscious choice to hope that he was as good as he pretended to be. And for that, he loved her. He didn't love her in the romantic sense, but in the true sense of it, he did: he would die if it meant bringing her back.

The house phone rang. Diane didn't even look up from the sink as she rinsed out a small metal milk server. After four rings, Benji snapped himself out of his thoughts and answered himself. "Knight-Greene residence."

"Benji?" a rough voice asked from the other end. Benji frowned and crossed his arms. The voice sounded slightly familiar, but not enough for him to identify its owner.

"This is Benji," he said warily. Diane handed him his cup of coffee and sat down at the table, clearly uninterested in the phone call. She dropped her forehead between her hands and let out a heavy sigh. The stranger let out a relieved breath.

"Good, good," he said quietly, then cleared his throat. "I need you to come to the hospital, now. Diane is going to receive a phone call soon minute, and I need you to be here by then. Leave your cell phone and bring your sister's talisman-"

"Now just hold on one second," Benji interrupted. "Who the hell-?"

"It's Joseph," the other man snapped, effectively shutting him up. "You know, the father of the girl your sister is responsible for killing?" Benji felt as if he'd been doused with cold water, and immediately his gaze flew to Diane. The woman practically considered herself a widow and had just lost her only child, and now Joseph Greene, Mikaela's father and Diane's husband, was awake from the coma? That was impossible-!

"Focus, Benji. Do what I said and get over here, before you lose your opportunity," Joseph said, clearly expecting Benji's shock. Benji shook his head and looked away as Diane gave him a curious glance.

"For what?" he asked quietly.

"Redemption," Joseph answered. He didn't specify, but the moment Benji heard that word, he knew exactly what the man meant. Only one thing could bring him redemption, and if anyone could tell him the way to get it, it was the powerful psychic.

"I'll be right there," Benji stated. "Do I need to do anything else?"

The man hesitated, and Benji braced himself. The man was very calm- hell, he knew about pretty much everything before it happened-, so to hear him hesitate made him anticipate the worst. "You might want to say goodbye," he finally replied. "You have five minutes before the hospital calls." Benji let out the breath he'd been holding and nodded: he'd expected as much.

"Thank you."

He hung up the phone and swallowed his emotion, looking at Diane. She'd let her hair down and was surrounded by her ridiculous amount of tight blonde curls, reminding him of when they'd met over twenty years before. He'd seen her as an infant and then as a child, but hadn't actually met her until she was starting college and dealing with her mother's suicide. She'd been angry at the world, angry at God, and angry at herself, but he'd watched as she'd slowly changed from being an angry teen that had suffered a horrible trauma to a strong young woman. He couldn't think of a way to say goodbye to the woman who had become his only family over the years.

"Who was that?" she asked, stirring some sugar into her coffee.

He couldn't do it.

"The boss," he lied, rolling his eyes. "I have to head in to work."

She frowned. "But you asked for today off," she said, clearly upset. "Can't he understand if you miss work today?"

"The man's a tyrant," he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee. His last coffee in the house. He sat down next to her and forced a smile. "It's fine. If I work today, I should have tomorrow off."

"Good." She nodded, satisfied with his answer. Benji focused his attention on the warm drink and took a large swallow. Four minutes left. Irish cream had never tasted so delicious before. As he set his mug down, his hands shook. It was a new sensation after so many years of being a vampire. Vampire hands didn't shake, or at least, his hadn't. Diane's pale hand covered his, and when he looked up at her, a knowing look that he'd feared seeing was in those blue eyes.

"You were a better liar as a vampire," she informed him quietly. He chuckled sheepishly: the women in the family were too sharp for their own good. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

He sighed and stayed silent, simply enjoying the feel of her hand on his, comforting, in spite of everything. "Do you remember when we went to Florida eighteen years ago?" he asked, smiling to himself. She nodded, and he noticed her swallow thickly. "You were pregnant, and we'd gone to Cocoa Beach hoping to enjoy the sun and the beach. Then it ended up raining all weekend."

She nodded, a ghost of a smile passing over her lips. "My father had lent us the beach house, and Joseph found some DVD's in his closet," she recalled. "We made a movie weekend out of it." Benji laughed suddenly.

"Didn't half of them turn out to be porn?"

She actually smiled then, albeit sadly, and nodded. "I thought I would die of embarrassment," she admitted. "When Joseph sorted through them, picking the movies out of the adult content, he couldn't stop laughing." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And _you _went and put one on!"

"Hey, you were the only one complaining!"

They both laughed at that memory before elapsing into silence again. When he looked at her, he saw that a tear had managed to escape before she wiped it away and took a steadying breath. "I know that the curse couldn't let you love him as much as you loved Nikolai, but you did love him," he stated, squeezing her hand. "You need to know that."

She looked at him strangely and nodded. "I know," she assured him.

"I don't think you do," he admitted. She looked down, knowing he was right. "You were going to let him get a divorce, but then he had the accident, and the paperwork got put on hold."

"He knew I couldn't love him like Nikolai," she said quietly, resignation heavy in her voice. "It wasn't fair for him to constantly be competing with my first love." Benji shook his head.

"The curse is broken," he reminded her firmly. "I need you to fight. You love him, I know it. Promise me you won't let him go." He stood up then, looking at his watch. One minute left.

"Benji, what's going on?" she asked, standing up as well. He set his jaw, fighting back emotion. He hated goodbyes.

"You're going to get a phone call in less than a minute," he said, holding on to her shoulders. "It's going to change things for you. Hold on to that hope, and wait for me." He pulled her into a hug. "Promise me you won't give up. You still have a chance to get it all back."

"Why are you saying goodbye?" she whispered. He couldn't stop the tears from falling then as he held onto that moment, wishing it would never end. But, it had to.

"I'm going to make things right," he promised. She hugged him back, but after a moment, he had to pull away. Before he could turn to the door, she grabbed his hand.

"You know I love you, right?"

Even as tears poured down her face, she smiled, giving him the one thing he wanted more than anything: to see her happy. He nodded, certain he was incapable of speaking at that point. The phone rang, and closing his eyes, he pulled away, pushing through the front door and out of the house for the last time.

* * *

**Post-Story Note:**

**The sequel will be up tonight (most likely within the hour). If you can, please write what you thought of the story in a review, I would greatly appreciate that :).**

**And really guys, thank you all so much for sticking with my through this story... It's been so much fun to write this for you all :)**


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